


Magic, Pastries, and Jester Lavorre

by SatisfactionBroughtItBack42



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: And the pursuit of bearclaws, Angst, Bearclaws, Bunch of anxious bastards over here, Enemies to Lovers, Essek is still perhaps a little questionable but we're working on it, Everybody loves Jester, F/M, Fluff, It's rarepair o'clock folks, Just a tad of Possessive!Essek, Kink mentions, Low flame and low heat at 300 degrees for an hour and forty five minutes kind of a slow burn, M/M, Magic, Mayhaps even a dollop of Possessive!Caleb, Multi, Negative Self Talk, Neutral Evil Essek is still Neutral Evil but secretly an absolute softie deep down, Nobody can keept a goddamn secret here, Other, Pastries, Perhaps a little OOC Essek, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pranks, Quarantine got me doing crazy shit like writing multichapter fanfiction, Rating might go up, Sad Boi Caleb being Sad Boi Caleb, Sexual Tension, Shadowgast, Slow Burn, Soft but still a little horny, Starts Jessek, TW Caleb Backstory, TW Ramifications of the Iron Shepards Arc, Teacher/Student????? Maybe????? Not really????? But I guess, Teaching, Team Caleb Actually Smells Good Now, Then Widojessek, Then Widojest, This is not how magic works in DnD but you know what? It works for the narriative, This started as a oneshot and then spiraled and now we're here, Trafficlight System, Trauma, Y'all Essek is a morally dubious character and thus will act in a slightly morally dubious fashion, hot boi, it's about the yearning, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatisfactionBroughtItBack42/pseuds/SatisfactionBroughtItBack42
Summary: In which Jester reaches out to Essek in the dead of night through repeated Sending spells, manages to secure a -date-not-date-but-totally-a-date, bearclaws, and Dunamantic tutoring from the borderline social recluse himself - and the implications of her studies with the Hot Boi Drow ensue a subtle feuding between Caleb and Essek.
Relationships: Background Beau/Yasha - Relationship, Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre & Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre & Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre & The Traveler, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 129
Kudos: 176





	1. Sending in the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot, I swear - but now shit has got out of hand and I gotta post shit now. I know there's probably a grand total of about like 5 other Jessek shippers out there, but goddamn if it ain't just a little cute. It's rarepair o'clock, folks.

Lying in her bed, alone in her room, Jester idly twirls her hair, her other hand futzing with the sheer silk of her pink nightgown. Beau had left to go to Yasha’s room to  _ hrmm hrm hrmmm _ , leaving Jester alone to her thoughts for the night. Usually Beau and her would talk for hours and hours before going to bed when they got these few and far between periods of downtime here in the Xhorhaus, sometimes not going to bed until the wee hours of the morning. But now, with Yasha back for good, and with Beau and Yasha rekindling their flirtationship and sparking it into a… well, whatever they are now, official or not, Beau was spending most nights in Yasha’s room, leaving Jester alone, without anyone to talk to at night. She’s happy for them, really, she is - but she’s just…  _ lonely, _ is all. 

She lets out a frustrated sigh, grabbing her pillow and squashing it into a bear hug, and letting out a small pout.  _ I wish I had someone like that _ . 

_ You know - I wonder if like, when I send a message, I’m interrupting people right at moments like these - lying awake at night, lonely, can’t sleep.  _ The intrusive thought strikes her, causing a morbid curiosity, and then a mild panic.  _ Oh my Gods, what if people hate when I send them messages? What if they think I’m like, super annoying? What if they hate me?! _ Jester snaps straight up, feeling anxiety prick away at her skin, her hand going to worry itself in her hair, and out of straight impulse, Jester falls back on her old habits, and casts Sending to Essek. 

“Oh my Gods,  _ Essek _ \- you don’t think I’m annoying, do you? I’m not bothering you when I message you, am I? You like them, right?!” 

Essek, who lies similarly in his bed, unable to rest, one arm wrapped around his pillow, the other lazily holding a book he can’t seem to pay attention to, certainly is surprised to say the least when a certain little Tiefling’s voice pops into his head. He drops his book, startled at first, not expecting to hear from, well…  _ anyone _ at this hour. He listens to her, and hears the panic in her voice, and finds himself feeling almost saddened and yet endeared at her tone, surprising even himself at his reaction.  _ Oh, Jester… you always find a way to knock me off kilter, don’t you? _

__ “I don’t think you’re annoying, Jester.” He begins, a soft smile on his face against his better judgement. “You don’t bother me - most nights I can’t rest, so your… conversation is welcome. I like your messages.” He answers honestly, perhaps too honestly, and for a moment he finds himself worried -  _ did I give away too much? _ Against his better will and judgement, he feels… he has a soft spot for the Mighty Nein, this ragtag group of outsiders, a total pain in his ass at times, always seeming to thwart his plans despite his best efforts - he supposes he has an especially…  _ tender _ spot in his cold, bitter heart for Jester, this rambunctious bundle of blinding, searing sunlight, who is always in his head, whether he wants her there or not. 

Jester listens to his response, and lets out a sigh of relief, hugging her pillow tighter, and casting sending again. “Thank the  _ Gods _ \- I was  _ so _ worried I’ve been secretly bothering you all this time! I’m glad ‘ _ my conversation is welcome _ ’ - yours is too, Essek.” 

Essek’s soft smile spreads, and he instinctively puts his hands up to his mouth to cover it, forgetting for a moment that she can’t see him -  _ can’t read his tells.  _ He clears his throat slightly, and begins his carefully worded response. “I’m similarly glad to know I have - that I have a friend in you, Jester.” Essek trips on his words, and dark purple flushes to his cheeks, momentarily mortified at his confession -  _ Don’t let her  _ **_see,_ ** _ dammit!  _ But then he steels himself, and clears his throat once more. “You are at times a welcome distraction.” His hand goes to his stark white hair, and he takes a deep breath, trying to right himself once more.  _ You damned, obvious,  _ **_obvious_ ** _ fool.  _

Jester grins hearing his response, her head resting to the top of her pillow, sighing happily.  _ A welcome distraction, huh _ ? Jester waits a moment, and thinks it over -  _ I’ve barely used any magic at all today. I can cast it again. _ “I mean,  _ obviously _ I’m your friend Essek - wouldn’t message you if you weren’t! So, like, you can also message me if you want! I’m here!” Jester flops down on her bed, tackling her pillow, and lying directly on top of it, her legs kicking in the air as she messages him. 

_ I’m here _ . Those words haunt Essek.  _ I don’t deserve that.  _ Essek pauses, his mind stuck in a violent downward spiral, self loathing and regret swirling in his head over those two little words.  _ I don’t deserve someone being  _ **_here_ ** _ for me - not will all I’ve done _ . “T-thank you, Jester. It - it means a lot. More than you know.” Essek cuts his message off there, taking a deep breath, and trying to lie back down and calm his mind. 

Jester smiles, a soft lavender blush coming to her cheeks.  _ Just one more spell.  _ “So like, we’re here in Roshanna for a little while - we should totally hang out! We’re friends after all! You can teach me spells!” 

Essek chuckles softly to himself, reminded of how he first brushed her off when teaching Caleb some basic dunamancy - _How wrong I was to underestimate her._ “I’d like that, Jester.” _I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow…_ Feeling a sudden boldness coming over him, he continues his response. “Come over tomorrow. Come alone. Don’t tell the others. Wear something nice - I’ll bring pastries.” 

Jester’s eyes go wide, and the creeping blush over her cheeks goes into a full bloom, as she hugs her pillow extremely tight, rolling around in her bed, squealing slightly, and casts sending again. “Oh my gosh,  _ Essek _ , is this a date? Are you asking me on a date?! What kind of pastries? Can you bring bearclaws?! Please!” 

It’s Essek’s turn to blush now, very much unlike himself, but still relishing the glee in her voice at the prospect. “I’ll do my best.” He ends his message there, deftly dodging the meat of her questions.  _ A date, huh - I just asked Jester Lavorre on a date - Gods, help me.  _ Essek snuffs the light cantrip giving him reading light, and readies himself under the covers. Against his better judgement, he gives a small smile, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest - such an unfamiliar feeling, something he’s not allowed himself to feel for a long time - and he lies there, smile on his face, and anticipation in his heart for the promise of tomorrow, for the promise of magic, pastries, and Jester Lavorre. 


	2. In Want and Pursuit of a Bearclaw in the Middle of the Dynasty

Rosohna is not particularly known for pastries - Xhorhas in  _ general _ is not known for pastries or the culinary arts. It all stems from the agriculture industry here, and the lack there of it, as Essek knows all too well given his position as the Shadowhand, being privy to all sorts of information as the the inner workings of the Dynasty - there is a heavy reliance on root vegetables and game here, which does not lend itself well to…  _ pastries _ . Unless Jester desperately wants radish and venison meat pies… but something tells Essek that this is  _ not _ the kind of pastries Jester is looking for.  _ No, she wants something sweet - like her.  _

So, at 8 o’clock in the goddamn morning, Essek leaves his tower, cloaked under the perpetual Rosohna midnight sky, perhaps overdressed in his elaborate silk mantle for a simple morning jaunt to the nearest bakery in the Firmaments, but still feeling the need to display his power and influence in this city and in this Dynasty through his attire. He gently glides through the streets, which are just beginning to awake and become alive. He gets some stares as he drifts through the streets, dressed like royalty and  _ floating _ above the cobblestone streets, looking effortlessly regal and  _ above _ the rest of the world, but he thinks little of this, besides the minor boost to his ego and sense of pride such awed stares invoke within him. Not having really  _ been _ to a bakery here, it takes a little while until he stumbles upon a small little shop with fresh bread, tarts, and pies stocked abundantly on display through the front window. 

He pauses, and makes a cursory glance at the assortment of baked goods on display.  _ Bearclaws - what is a  _ **_bearclaw_ ** ? Nothing in the display case looked like what Essek would imagine a  _ bearclaw _ should look like - rather simply the usual assortment of breads, some prominently displayed cranberry tarts, small meat pies, a couple quiches -  _ This has to be some sort of Nicodranian delicacy _ . 

Essek enters the establishment, a small bell ringing as he opens the door. Behind a wooden counter stands an older drow male, currently kneading some dough with flour staining his purple hands, a little splotch marking his lightly sweating brow. He turns his head up to look at Essek and stops kneading his dough, a little taken aback by seeing someone as outfitted as himself here in his humbler shop. “What can I help you with, sir?” He places his hands on his hips, and rights his posture, straightening himself. 

Essek clears his throat. “Good morning - I have perhaps a bit of an odd request of your talents.” 

The baker looks at him, his brow furrowing slightly, before returning to a friendly expression. “Ask away!” He wipes his hands on his apron, and wipes away the flour at his brow. 

“My…  _ friend _ , she’s - she’s from Nicodranas. And she’s very fond of a particular pastry from there, a delicacy that I don’t think is quite readily available here in the Dynasty.” 

“Nicodranas, huh?” The baker thinks aloud. 

“Yes. She’s quite enamored with something called a  _ bearclaw _ . I myself have never had one, and don’t quite know what they  _ are _ , but it would make her most happy if she was able to have some here in the Dynasty.” 

“Bearclaws…” The Baker brings his hand to his chin, contemplating, before a warm, fond smile spreads across his features. “I can do that. Give me about two hours - how many would you like?” 

Essek pauses, mulling the question over.  _ She seemed so excited over them - she obviously wants some to take home, right? Will she share these with the rest of the Nein?  _ A strange pang of jealousy struck Essek -  _ I don’t want her to share these with anyone else - these are  _ **_our_ ** _ thing,  _ **_my_ ** _ gift to  _ **_her_ ** _ \- so enough for the both of us, and extra for her to eat multiple, and possibly take some home, but not enough for her to be able to share with the rest of the Nein.  _ “I’ll take 8, please. And two cranberry tarts.”  _ I hope that’s the right amount.  _

“Alright, for a special order of something not currently on the menu, and for the cinnamon on top of that, and the two cranberry tarts… that’ll run you about 1 gold and 2 silver.” 

Essek reaches for a pouch within his mantle, and places the money in the baker’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be back in two hours.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Jester woke up early that day, excitement thrumming through her veins at the prospect of her date-not-date-but-maybe-date she has with Essek today.  _ He’s  _ **_finally_ ** _ opening up to me!  _ Since meeting the exceedingly handsome drow, she had made it her personal mission to make him her friend - but, even despite her first intentions, she’s not blind -  _ hot boi indeed. _ The idea of something…  _ more _ with Essek sends a violet blush to her cheeks. It almost doesn’t feel real - she often imagines herself in the arms of handsome men and women, the members of her own party not excluded from her vivid and active imagination, so of  _ course  _ she’s  _ imagined _ being the object of his affections - but that’s just it, isn’t it -  _ imagined _ . Not real.  _ What would it mean - something  _ **_real_ ** _ with him? Can I even trust him enough to have a relationship?  _

Jester gives pause to her morning routine, stopping in front of her wardrobe, her hands reaching for her prettiest frilly yellow sundress -  _ What if I’m reading too much into this? He never really said that this was a date, did he? Oh Gods - what if I’m completely making it all up in my head? Just stuck in my romance novels, not in reality - that’s me. Clueless Jester, unaware Jester,  _ **_stupid_ ** _ Jester - _

Cutting through her spiraling, a familiar voice appears out of nowhere in her head. “Come to my tower at noon. Pastries have been acquired. I have all the parchment and ink we’ll need to copy over the spells.” Essek’s cool, sublime voice cuts over her internal monologue within her head. 

Jester beams widely, snatching her yellow dress from within her wardrobe, and puts it on. “Yooooou got it Essek! Aw man, I’m so excited - I’ve never done any duamancy before! Can you teach me the chair thing? Pretty pretty please?” 

Back in his tower, Essek smiles slightly, remembering her awe at the simple spell he once taught Caleb, and how eagerly she climbed atop the chair to experience the power of dunamancy, and casts sending again. “Well, when you ask me so nicely - how can I not?” 

Jester pumps her fist in the air and strikes a victorious pose. “Yesss! Oh man, no more relying on Caleb for my pranks! The rest of the Nein stand no chance against me! I am unstoppable!!” 

Essek sighs slightly, before lightly chuckling to himself.  _ How very Jester-like to be after powerful and rare dunamantic magic for  _ **_pranks_ ** .  _ What exactly have I gotten myself into?  _

At exactly 11:31 (thanks to a reminder of the absolute clockwork mind of Caleb Widogast), Jester grabs her green Traveler cloak, and begins to leave the Xhorhaus. “Where are you going, Jessie?” Veth asks after her. 

Remembering how Essek asked her to not tell anyone where she’s going, she calls out after her, “Out!” 

“ _ Out _ , huh?” Veth insinuates, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Anywhere in particular, eh?” 

“What, can a girl not just simply go  _ out _ these days?” Jester turns back around, wagging her eyebrows similarly, her finger going to lips in a ‘hush’ motion. 

“ _ Okay. _ Have fun, and stay  _ safe _ !” Veth smiles smugly, a knowing look on her face. 

“I will!” And with that, Jester leaves the Xhorhaus, and begins the pleasant walk to Essek’s tower in the Firmaments. 


	3. The Devious Applications of Dunamis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading your comments genuinely made my day! Thank you guys, really, from the bottom of my heart.

Essek sits in his parlor room, his shoulders tensed, and his finger anxiously tapping away on his knees as her eyes the pastry spread in front of him, a litany of unseen servants rapidly cleaning and readying his home behind him.  _ Will she like the pastries? What if the bearclaws don’t measure up to what she’s used to back home? What if she hates the cranberry tarts?”  _ Essek shakes his head, trying to manually clear his anxious thinking from his head.  _ What has gotten  _ **_into_ ** _ you, man? Are you truly brought to your knees by the pastry preference and approval of a mere  _ **_girl_ ** _?  _ He straightens his posture, sets his shoulders back, and rightens himself once more. 

Behind him, a grandfather clock chimes noon. He looks to the door, eager despite his attempts to remain cool and collected. 1 minute. 2 minutes. 3 minutes.  _ Did she get lost? She’s been here before - what if something happened on her way here?  _ His tapping of his fingers on his knee grows more and more severe.  _ Calm yourself, it’s only 3 minutes. 3 minutes is nothing. It’s very like Jester to be a couple of minutes late - at least it feels like something she’s apt to do. 3 minutes, Thelyss - get a hold of yourself.  _

Ad, at the 4 minute mark, a very particular series of knocks comes from his front door.  _ Knock knock - knock knock knock.  _ “Essek!” He hears muffled from behind the door. “It’s me, Jester!” 

Essek stands, smoothing his clothing out, a decidedly more casual yet still stylish and impeccably well made black satin shirt with billowing, poofed sleeves, black silk vest with painstakingly precious silver embroidery, long flowing sleeveless over gown in subtle yet still richly detailed black brocade, and tight black breeches that hugged his slim figure. He stands in front of the door, and telepathic commands an unseen servant to open the door. 

He’s greeted by a pearly white fanged smile, as Jester stands in front of him in a floofy vibrant yellow sundress, and for a moment, he stands stock still, stuck by just how  _ blindingly  _ radiant she is, like the sun that burns his kind. “Hi! You look  _ really _ nice, Essek!” Her eyes go to the embroidery on his vest, losing herself momentarily in the extravagant display of craftsmanship and expert handiwork, before returning to look back to his face. 

He clears his throat slightly, and the corners of his mouth turn up a little at her approval. “Thank you, Jester. Likewise.” 

Essek could swear that the  _ slightest _ of purple blushes come to her freckled purple cheeks, and he feels a deep sense of satisfaction knowing he was able to produce such a reaction in her. “You said you have pastries, ja?” Her lavender eyes light up at the prospect of baked goods.  _ Right to the point, then?  _

“Yes. And a little surprise - a rare treat not naturally found here in the Dynasty.” 

Her eyes truly sparkle, and she comes barreling in, reaching the parlor with such excitement and exuberance that Essek cannot help but smile to himself at her adorable antics. She looks to the coffee table, and gasps. 

“ **_Bearclaws!_ ** ” She immediately snatches one from the arranged plate, and stuffs it eagerly into her mouth. She sighs happily, and turns to look back at Essek, a look of pure joy etched on her expressive features. Impulsively, she wraps her arms around him in a surprisingly strong vice like grip, thanking him for her gift. Essek freezes, and tenses up, not used to _ genuine _ physical affection, but find himself melting into her impressively strong grasp, his finger absentmindedly making their way to the tips of her silky navy locks, and he marvels at how  _ soft  _ they are, how soft  _ she _ is, yet just how unexpectedly muscular her frame is. She pulls back from him just as quickly as she leaned in, and Essek immediately feels himself wanting for her to stay there, right against him, and feels just a tinge of  _ yearning _ creep up within him. She beams up at him, a tad of frosting lying smeared on her bottom lip, milky white in it’s color,  _ immediately  _ thrusting Essek’s imagination down into the gutter. He clears his throat slightly, forcing himself to straighten up and  _ recover _ himself. “ _ Eeeessek!”  _ She draws his name out, grinning at him with such imploring and sparkling violet eyes. “You shouldn’t have! Actually, yes, you should have, because they taste  _ amazing - _ just like the ones back home!” 

Essek smiles back at her, still a little stiff and reserved, and bows slightly to her. “Truly the credit goes to all to the bakery. I was merely the coin.” 

Her forked tongue darts out to lick at the frosting on her lip, and for a moment Essek nearly chokes on his own spit, his mind apparently  _ still _ in the gutter.  _ Imagine what that tongue could do - _ “Well, I appreciate it regardless - I haven’t had one of these in a  _ very _ long time.” Her smile is genuine, her eyes almost distant for a moment, caught in a memory, before returning to his gaze once more. 

“I’m glad you find them to your liking.” 

“Have you tried one yet?” Jester resumes attacking the pastry in her hands. 

“I haven’t, actually.” 

“ **_ESSEK_ ** ! Oh my  **GODS -** Okay okay okay okay - you  _ sooooooo _ need to try one! It will change your life  _ forever!”  _ Jester grabs another pastry and takes a deep breath, and outstretches her bearclaw ladened hand. “I am  _ so _ glad I get to be here with you to experience this.” 

_ What else would she be glad to experience with me -  _ **_Stop it, you_ ** _! Get your head out of the gutter!  _ Essek takes the bear claw from her, his finger accidentally brushing against hers, and Essek _ swears _ , he sees just the slightest  _ gasp _ from her plush blueberry lips, the minutest hitch in her breath, and from the tiniest of touches, Essek feels such a  _ powerful _ sense of satisfaction, know that he could cause such a reaction in Jester from the mere brush of his hand. 

He takes the bearclaw, and takes a small bite - the pastry is flaky, and melts in his mouth, with a strong taste of cinnamon, and sugary sweet icing - it’s more sweet than he usually likes, but he still enjoys it nonetheless.  _ Just like Jester _ . 

She looks up at him eagerly. “So? How was it? Did you like it? Are you like,  _ totally _ in love with it now?”

Essek smiles at her softly, and nods his head. “I understand now why you asked for them.” 

Jester eyes the assortment of pastries in front of her, and looks curiously at the cranberry tarts on the table. “What’s that?” She points towards the foreign pastries. 

“Cranberry tarts. There isn’t such an emphasis on sweet things here within the Dynasty, but this here is a traditional Xhorhassian dessert.” 

Jester moves closer to the coffee table, and eyes the tarts suspiciously. “You know Essek, I don’t think I’ve ever had a cranberry before.” 

Essek smiles, and picks up one of the tarts, and extends it towards Jester’s mouth. “Then let me allow you to experience a taste of the Dynasty - a cultural trade of sorts, no?” 

Without thinking, Jester bites into the tart, directly out of Essek’s outstretched hand. Essek nearly chokes on his own spit for a moment, not expecting her to do  _ that _ \- her angle is just  _ ever _ so slightly off, so that her lips and tongue accidentally brush against his fingertips, and immediately on contact, Essek could swear he feels an electric sparks radiate on his affected flesh, and he has half a mind to just drive his fingers further into his mouth, allowing her to suck and nibble upon them, and rend them electrocuted. 

Jester chews contemplatively for a moment, before a soft, slightly surprised smile comes over her features. “It’s actually really good Essek! Kind of sour though. But a good sour.” She eyes the tart, her hand motioning to snatch at it, but stopping, looking towards him for permission. “Can I have some more?” She wags her fingers at the tart, all but saying  _ ‘gimme gimme’  _ with her eyes. 

Essek places the tart in her outstretched hand. “You can have anything you like, Jester.” 

Jester looks to him with insinuating eyes, her brow wagging up and down, a wicked smile on her devilish features. “ _ Anything?” _

For a moment, Essek regrets his word choice, mainly because he knows that he just spoke the absolute  _ truth _ to her, that she can have anything she wants from him, even against his better judgement, and for a moment he worries he’s being to transparent with her -  _ You’re the Shadowhand for Gods’ sake - you live, eat, and  _ **_breathe_ ** _ deception and masks - you can’t do that with her? You can’t at least  _ **_try_ ** _ to cover up your true feelings, whatever they be?  _ And Essek looks at Jester Lavorre, who takes the tart in her hands, and inelegantly plops herself down on his loveseat in a poof of golden yellow frills and petticoats, and begins scarfing down the tart in question like wild animal devouring her prey, and it’s so oddly adorable and endearing, he finds himself unable to look away from the sight of her, and just the slightest whisper of a smile cracks across his steely features.  _ Why can’t you just tell the truth now and then - isn’t that being a better man?  _

After finishing the tart, Jester digs into the platter again, this time going for a second bearclaw. Essek indulges himself, and reaches for a second one himself. “Would you like some tea, Jester?” 

“Sure!” Essek nods, and telepathically communicates to one of his unseen servants to put a kettle on. “You know, I wasn’t really a tea drinker until I met Caduceus. But he’s turned me around on it.” 

“I’m glad to hear you’ve seen the light.” Essek quips in his usual dry tone. 

Jester’s eyes go wide, surprise reading on her expressive features. “Essek, did you just make a joke?!” 

“Should I not have?” Essek remarks, suddenly slightly uncomfortable and self conscious, though finding a good way to temper it in his expression. 

“I’ve just never heard you make a joke, is all.”  _ He’s really letting me in!  _ “You should do that more often! Laughter is the best medicine, you know.” 

_ When  _ **_is_ ** _ the last time you told a joke?  _ “Consider me on the road to recovery, then.” 

Jester smiles warmly, a light tinge of purple rushing to her cheeks. “Sooooooo, Essekkkk - what'rewe learnin today?” Jester sits on the edge of her seat, her hands resting coyly on her knees, as she leans closer to Essek, an eager and mischievous look dancing in her violet eyes. 

Feeling coy himself, that same spark of mischief in his veins, and knowing that Jester would ultimately love it, Essek rests his hands subtly underneath the coffee table, attempting to look natural as he plots within the confines of his mind. Being a powerful caster, he is able to surpass the mere somatic elements of spells, but the hand motions still apply. His eyes rake over her form, as he assesses his best target.  _ Just a small trinket, something she won’t immediately recognize.  _ His gaze rests on the column of her throat, and at the black silk ribbon tied around it. He smirks slightly, and underneath the table, he casts Wrist Pocket, pocketing her choker within the extra-planar binding of the spell located within his wrist. The choker simply blinks out of existence, without any fuss, or any notice from Jester, who looks back at him, unknowing of its absence.  _ Perfect _ . 

“Well - you mentioned wanting to learn the Immovable Object spell I taught to Caleb.” Jester nods keenly, her usually unnoticeable tail beginning to almost  _ wag _ like a small puppy, brushing against the floor, which makes Essek pause and marvel at the oddness and beauty of Tiefling anatomy. “However - I think that Caleb has the complete capability to teach you that spell himself.” Her face falls slightly, and the tip of her tail falls limp on the floor. “That being said - I’d like to teach you something even Caleb does not know. A spell between just you and me.” 

Jester regains herself, in curiosity piqued.  _ A spell between just me and him, huh? _ A small thrill trills through her belly at the mere thought of it. “ _ Go on.”  _

Essek’s smirk broadens.  _ Excellent.  _ His gaze returns once more to her neck, which he can’t help but notice is so elegant and swanlike, and would be heaven to simply -  _ focus, man!  _ Putting on his best performance, he feigns concern, and gestures to her neck. “Jester, your necklace -” 

Confused, her hands go to her neck to reach for it, but find nothing but bare skin. Her eyes go wide, and a mild panic sets in, as she attempts to figure out just where it could have gone -  _ I know I had it on me when I left, and I could have sworn I was wearing it when I entered Essek’s tower!  _ Her hands go to the loveseat around her, as she feels for the crevices within corners of the cushion, growing increasingly worried and unnearved as her confusion as to where it could have gone mounts. 

_ Checkmate.  _ “Ah, that’s right - I had forgotten -” Essek grabs her attention, as she stops her searching to look at him confusedly. He gestures towards his wrist, and suddenly, from the ether, the ribbon emerges from his wrist and into his hand. Essek smirks, as Jester’s eyes go wide, first with a look of utter bewilderment, and then with awe and admiration. “- I had placed it here. How forgetful of me.” 

Jester smiles widely, and looks up at Essek with eager and glittering eyes. “ **_ESSEK!_ ** Did you just prank me????” 

Essek shrugs nonchalantly, a sly and proud smirk widening on his handsome features. “You did say you wanted pranks.” 

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Essek - but how foolish of me to underestimate a man of shadows.” Jester looks oddly proud of him, a knowing look in her eyes. 

“Quite.” Essek says playfully. He turns his attention back to her throat, and, feeling emboldened, pats the seat next to him, holding the ribbon up. “Here - let me tie you back up.” 

Jester flushes, aggressively so, and averts her eyes slightly at the implications and insinuations of his words -  _ I wouldn’t be opposed to that.  _ Her hands knot themselves in her skirts as she walks the short distance between the loveseat and the couch. When her gaze meets Essek’s once more, there is a spark of mischief in his crystalline blue eyes, and they almost pierce directly through her, seeming so confident, calm, and  _ knowing _ \- it sends an electric thrill down the back of her spine, and she swears her face is now as purple as his, as she sits next to him on the couch. Her skirts are so voluminous that they spill over slightly onto his lap, the yellow and the black contrasting nicely against each other

“Turn around.” He says cooly, slightly authoritatively in his tone, but still gentle enough that Jester complies with him. Facing her back, he brushes her hair away for better access, and when his fingertips lightly brush against the nape of her neck, he can hear try a stifle a faint gasp - it gives him a dark thrill, and feeling of power over her, knowing that he can evoke such a response. He has tot steele himself to not just keep his fingers there, and trace every freckle on her skin’s surface, and to not wind themselves in her silky locks, knotting, grasping, and pulling them until she gasps again - but he takes a deep breath, simply brushes away the errant strand of hair, and wraps the silk ribbon around her neck. 

Jester feels a fire light in her belly, the roars alight at his touch - with every single brush against her skin she feels like she’s going to simply  _ melt _ against him.  _ He’s never been so… affectionate, so…  _ **_physical_ ** _. Even if it’s the slightest of touches, it’s so rare from him - I want to savor it.  _

Essek ties the ribbon in a bow behind her, and feels an urge to just let his hands emlt from her neck to shoulders and down her arms - but he restrains himself, curbing the impulse.  _ You’ve done enough as is.  _ “There - all done.”

Jester’s hand idly finds its way to her neck, her fingers fiddling with the ribbon. She turns around, and smiles a little sheepishly at him. “Thank you, Essek. That was - that was a really cool spell. What’s it called?” 

“Wrist Pocket. It’s a dunamantic spell that creates an extra dimensional pocket plane within the confines of your wrist. It allows you to hold one item not exceeding five pounds, but only for one hour. It definitely has its practical uses - but, I think in capable hands, it holds excellent pranking potential.” 

Jester smiles wider, her right fang idly biting on her lip. “Capable hands, huh?” 

“Extremely.” 

There is a brief pause, as Jester blushes slightly, looking down at her lap for a moment, before looking back in his eyes. “Thank you, Essek.” 

“I speak only what I know.” Essek stands, extending his hand to help her up, knowing that she doesn’t need it, but greedily wanting to feel her plush skin once more. “Come - let me show you how to do it.” Jester nods, taking his hand, surprised by how soft they are, as he leads her upstairs to his study. 


	4. Unconventional Teaching Methods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, magic is certainly *not* taught like this in DnD, and totally doesn't work like this - but you know what? It's hot, okay. Let a dumb bih live their best life. 
> 
> Also, I'm a nerd and would totally read all of the books I made up.

Settling into his study, Essek pulls out a spare and unused simple brown leather journal, and hands it to Jester. “For copying the spell.” He produces an elegant purple plumed quill and ink pot, and places it in front of her on the desk. “Now, this is high quality ink - please be mindful when using it - try to avoid spills.” He flicks his wrist, and a thick spell tome elegantly floats into his grasp. He places the tome on the desk, and flicks his fingers through the air, the pages of the book moving on their own accord to the proper page, using the other hand to gesture forth a chair from across the room, and takes a seat. 

Jester sits at the desk, her fingers beginning to knot and worry themselves in the fabric of her skirts - Essek’s grasp and control of magic is so impressive, and how he effortlessly switches between magic and the mundane is mesmerizing in all honesty.  _ How can I measure up to that?  _ She looks intently at the page in the tome, and tries her best to decipher the… runes? Symbols? Squiggles? On the page, biting her lip in frustration. 

Essek hands the quill to her, but stops, pausing at the expression on her face. “Is there something wrong, Jester?” He asks curiously, a little concerned at her odd reaction to a simple book.

Jester takes a deep breath. “Okay okay okay okay - so, confession time -” Jester turns to look him in the eyes, and he can see the trepidation clear as day within her. 

“Yes?” He retracts his hand holding the quill, letting it rest in his lap and allowing her space to speak. 

“So… I’m not like you and Caleb - I don’t really  _ learn _ my magic like you guys. I get my magic from the  _ divine _ \- The Traveler grants me my magic through my worship and belief in him, ja, so, like - I don’t really do any  _ book _ learning like you Wizard types do. So… to be  _ honest _ … I never really have to deal with any of this, so…  _ Ikindofdon’treallyknowwhatI’mdoing _ .” She looks down at her lap, a little ashamed at her confession. 

Essek feels a tug on his cold, dead heartstrings at her worry, finding himself wanting to reach out and hold her hand like she did with him when he confessed and spilled his anxious guts out to them all, but he tables that urge, setting it aside for now, not wanting to scare her off in a clear moment of vulnerability, no matter how much he really wanted to. “I wouldn’t say you don’t know what you’re doing, Jester. You’re clearly capable.” She looks up from her lap, and he can see how she almost doesn’t believe what he says -  _ If only you knew how much I can relate to what you’re feeling, Jester _ . “You would not have gotten as far as you have, done all that you have, if you were not a capable and powerful practitioner of magic.”  _ Or person. Or woman.  _ “It’s merely a different way of practicing magic. It does present a… slight change in my teaching methods, and perhaps a small learning curve, but - I am also capable.” 

A small smile crosses her face. “Okay.” 

Essek nods, and places the quill on the desk. “Now - as I am not a divine practitioner, nor an acolyte myself, it is time for me to learn - how exactly do you learn new spells?” Essek crosses his legs and leans back slightly in his chair. 

Jester smiles in full now, and brings her hands clasped tight together in her lap. “Okay okay okay okay, sooooooo - I worship the Traveler, and he’s like - the best God, the coolest God, and he teaches me new things time from time, usually after I’ve proven myself in battle or do something really awesome in his name or something. So, usually when I’m alone, and drawing in my sketchbooks, and just telling him about my day and stuff, he’ll appear like he usually does, and he’ll be like ‘Jester, you’re so cool, and so good, and my favorite, ja, here’s some really awesome magic and shit’, and he’ll stand behind me like he usually does, and place his hands under mine, ja, and begin to move his hands in the, like, ‘somatic’ movements, and I’ll follow along, ja, and he’ll correct my fingers and stuff, and we’ll speak through the verbal components and whatnot, like call and repeat shit, and he’ll show me the physical components and whatnot so that I know what to get, and we’ll just practice it until I get it right! But there’s no books, no copying spells, no like -  _ runes _ and stuff, you know?” 

Essek gives pause, taking a moment to fully comprehend her rapid fire manner of conveying information, and despite it’s rambling nature, he finds it rather adorable -  _ just like her messages. _ But it’s the fact that her God appears to her in the  _ flesh _ that really gives him pause - that her God  _ touches her _ , and  _ teaches _ her in such a…  _ hands on _ way.  _ I have  _ **_never_ ** _ heard of any God imparting magical gifts quite like  _ **_that_ ** . “So, the Traveler - he appears to you in a physical form?” 

“I mean, so, he used to be really covered in his green cloaks, which is why  _ I _ wear a green cloak you know, and so I didn’t used to really see much of his physical form besides like, a slight  _ whisper  _ of his hair, or just like the  _ slightest _ outline of his jaw or something, and obviously like his hands and stuff, but recently I’ve been able to see -” Jester stops suddenly, a moment of realization coming across her face, and her expression falls slightly. 

She looks to her lap for a moment, and the back to Essek, her gaze suddenly becoming more guarded and intense. “Essek - you have to promise me you can keep a secret.” 

Essek tilts his head curiously, intrigued at this sudden change in her, but still wary of her circumspection out of seemingly nowhere. “ _ Okay. _ ” He says cautiously. 

“I mean it Essek - I  _ really  _ want to trust you.” Jester looks at him with almost pleading and imploring eyes. 

“I want you to trust me.” He speaks honestly, and from his heart for once. 

Jester nods, and takes a deep breath. “ _ Okay okay okay okay _ \- so - The Traveler is not like a  _ ‘God God’ _ , like in Divine Gate and ‘ascended’ kind of way. He’s like - he’s like a semi-God or something - like Folk God, in my opinion. But the Traveler is actually an Archfey named Artagan - he’s really cool, and he’s really powerful, and he’s like, my best friend, and I love him, and he’s my source of power and magic! But it’s like, power through  _ belief _ , you know - and like, I was his  _ first  _ follower, and like, the one who even  _ made _ him a God-not-God, so like - I’m  _ pretty powerful _ , you know! But so that’s how he’s able to appear in a physical form and teach me the way he does. He’s like the best kind of God, because he’s got like, all the divine shit, ja, but he’s still able to be actually  _ there _ for you, and to talk to you like a person, and listen to you, and help you, in a way that  _ other _ Gods just can’t. So really he’s the best.” 

Essek smiles to himself, deeply intrigued by this secret - being the Shadowhand, he  _ lives _ off of juicy secrets and bits of information, and  _ this _ secret -  _ there’s just so many implications and possibilities here.  _ “ _ Fascinating, _ ” he utters slightly under his breath, “so you really made a God, did you?” Jester shoots him a wicked grin. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” Jester chuckles slightly, and the sound is music to his ears. 

Essek pauses for a moment thinking things over slightly, before nodding slightly to himself and standing up from his chair. “Clearly the books will be of no help here. Now, I am no  _ God not God _ myself - but I am certainly intrigued by this Traveler’s teaching methods.” He motions for Jester to stand, which she does, almost jumping up from her seat, and bouncing slightly on the floor. 

He moves to the center of the room, and motions for her to come forward with him, which she does. He pauses for a moment, almost psyching himself up to go through with this  _ odd _ and very  _ personal  _ teaching method, but he takes a small series of paces, ending up directly behind her. 

Jester feel a rush of excitement and anticipation stemming from deep within her, at the prospect of new magic of course, but also at the prospect of soothing physical contact - she’s a very touch-oriented person, always craving physical contact from the person around her, and she always loves when the Traveler teaches her new magic for because it satisfies that everburning need for simple humanoid touch within her. She’s always been…  _ fond _ of when people stand directly behind her, as it reminds of of how the Traveler always appears to her, and she can’t help the almost guiding bolt-like surge of electric satisfaction that strikes through her whenever she feels her back pressed against someone’s chest, their breath on her neck, and their head nestled on her shoulder. It feels  _ safe _ , it feels  _ protected, _ it feels... like  _ home.  _ So when Essek stands directly behind her, his head and neck to the right of hers, bending down slightly to be closer to her head level to compensate for the rather large height difference between the two, and just the  _ faintest _ hint of his breath ghosting down her neck - she can’t help the shiver the runes down her spine. 

Essek sees Jester shiver, and worries for a moment that she’s too cold, and that he should fetch her cloak for her - but then smirks to himself knowingly, a deep sense of pride welling within him from her reaction. Her tail skirts his ankles, and almost seems to  _ wrap _ itself around one of them, and he can’t tell if this is conscious or subconscious of her, but he finds himself amused by it regardless, and decides not to mention it. 

From behind her, he places his right hand out in front of her. “Watch me do it first unaccompanied.” He places his hand on straight, with his palm facing down, and leading with his pinky, one by one, his finger curls downwards in a clockwise motion until his wrist faces up, and has his finger gesture towards him, with his pinky leading again. “That should do it. There are no verbal or physical components to this spell, purely somatic - but you must visualize what you are trying to pull forth into the pocket dimension within you, and think hard and clear about your intention and will to obtain it.” 

Jester nods, her heart beating just a little faster now, and her breath becoming just a tad more shallow and irregular -  _ Gods, I just want to nestle into his shoulder right now - focus Lavorre! Magic! Magic learning time! _ “Okay.” Jester extends her hand outward, and places it on top of Essek’s - immediately she feels these almost numbing-like tingles erupt all over the surface of her palms against his skin, and she feels herself blush  _ heavily _ , and silently thanks the Traveler that he cannot see her face right now. 

“Alright - with me now.” Essek slowly begins to move his pinky in the leading direction, and Jester begins to move with him, the two finding a slow but surprisingly synchronistic technique about themselves. It’s certainly a…  _ strange _ method to go about teaching, but Essek finds he doesn’t mind - in fact, quite the opposite - selfishly, he quite  _ likes _ being in direct contact with Jester - against himself, he finds his heart begin to beat  _ ever  _ so slightly faster with her back against his chest, and he finds his left hand twitching almost,  _ desperately  _ seeking to wrap itself around her waist and hips - for a moment he musters up his nerve, and his hand glides just a little closer to her, and he almost does it - but after completing on set of the somatic motions with her, he stops himself, thinking better of it, not wishing to push his luck with her -  _ You have gone far enough as it is. You don’t deserve any more.  _

Jester falters slightly in her motion, her attention deviating to Essek’s slightly wandering hand, and for a moment her heart  _ leaps _ up into her throat, her mind fixating on the idea of being properly  _ held _ by him -  _ I haven’t been really  _ **_held_ ** _ in a long time, such a long time, other than by the Traveler - Artagan - perhaps even over a year ago by now - have I ever been really,  _ **_truly_ ** _ held? Like  _ **_that_ ** _?  _ Subconsciously, Jester shifts her weight slightly over to her left, almost leaning into his retracting hand, and finding herself deeply disappointed when he doesn’t follow through. 

Seeing her weight shift, almost gravitating toward the promise of his touch, Essek clears his throat nervously, stiffly -  _ She’s willing - Gods above, she’s  _ **_willing_ ** . “Once more. Focus on leading with your pinky - you’re letting your wrist lead too much.” He begins the same movement, this time slower, her hand following suit. Emboldened slightly, his errant hand makes the same slow, almost shaky journey to her waist, his target directly at the junction of her trim waist and curvy, fleshy hip. “Like you’re wrapping your fingers around a most delicious prize -” And saying a silent prayer and shooting his shot, in almost the same motion, her slowly wraps his left hand around her hip, his fingers digging into her ample curves (leading with his pinky, in the most educational manner possible of course), feeling the supple,  _ delicious _ plushness against his fingertips, as a deep and heady thrill courses through him, “as you  _ take  _ it for your own.” 

Jester tries to best to hold in in, but a small, breathy gasp escapes her lips inadvertently, as she blushes and bites down on her lip slightly, and  _ leans  _ into his hold on her, and finds herself resting against his chest, feeling a slight wobble in her knees at so much  _ deeply _ needed physical contact - her head feels almost foggy, in a haze of delight and  _ anticipation _ , and  _ longing _ , for  _ more, more, more! _ Almost with a mind of its own, her tail properly  _ wraps _ itself around his left ankle, holding him in kind. 

Almost feeling drunk, drunk on  _ ego _ , on  _ power _ , on  _ Jester _ , and on  **_desire_ ** , Essek leans his head down closer towards the crook of her neck, and lets his eyes wander from assessing her hand movements to assessing the grace of her neck, of her paint-splatter-like freckles littering the canvas of her sapphire skin, and of how  _ deeply _ he would like to paint some more spots across the vast expanse of her gracile neck and shoulders. He leans directly towards her ear, allowing his breath to ghost the outer edges. “ _ Good _ \- you’re a quick learner, Lavorre.” 

Jester almost malfunctions on the  _ spot _ , feeling the low and lilting bass of his honey-soaked tongue rumble against her eardrum, the proximity almost vibrating against her neck as well, causing another shiver to run down her spine. That deep, pooling feeling of satisfaction at his praise, and eagerness for his touch, and  _ yearning _ for  _ more _ feeling almost overflowing at this point, and threatens to spill over, but yet it always seems to be  _ just _ on the brink, never over, just on the  _ edge _ of something, of  _ more - _ “It’s easy when I have a good teacher like yourself,  _ Theyless _ .” She teases back, straightening her spine, feeling decidedly coy and flirtatious with the exceedingly handsome Drow at her back. 

Essek chuckles slightly, Jester feeling the rumble within his chest against her in doing so. “ _ Maybe so _ .” Essek removes his right hand from underneath Jester’s, and nods. “Now - try it on your own.” 

“Okay.” Jester takes a deep breath, and repeats the motion, imaging  _ grasping, pulling,  _ and _ beckoning _ an object towards her, leading with her pinky in the elegant clockwise motion. 

“ _ You’re doing excellent, Jester.”  _ Essek croons in her ear, causing her to lightly sigh happily against him.

“Really?” She turns her head to look in his icy pale blue eyes, which read of satisfaction, but also a smouldering  _ hunger _ \- she’s read about this in her smut books, read about the heady look of unabashed desire in a partner’s eyes, and she’s always  _ dreamed _ about being looked at with those same eyes - but now, it’s here, staring her right in the face, and she doesn’t know what to do, other than to move closer, and lean in, and move  _ forward _ ,  _ towards _ it,  _ chasing _ after something dangerous yet thrilling and unknown.

Essek feels it, and alluring temptation, and for a brief moment, he allows himself to stare at her blueberry lips, and imagine what it would be like to  _ claim _ them for his own, to  _ feast _ on their soft plushness, and to  _ bruise _ them from his kisses -  _ Don’t get ahead of yourself, Theyless. Savor all you can now - you’ve done enough already.  _ He meets her eyes once more, the strangely non-solid lavender irises that seem to glitter in the candlelight, and he nods, smiling at her. “You picked it up perfectly. Give yourself some credit where credit is due.” 

Jester takes a moment, and looks down sheepishly for a second, before looking back up at him again. “Thank you, Essek.” 

“It is all your doing.” He squeezes her hip lightly, causing her tail to squeeze against his ankle in return. “Now,” He shifts his attention to the bookcase in front of them, “time to do some actual casting.”

Jester nods, turning her face away from him a little regrettably, and paying attention to his gaze on the bookshelf. 

“I want you to pick a book on the shelf that interests you. Make it a lighter one, so that it doesn’t exceed the five pound limit, but a book that you find intriguing.” 

Jester takes a moment to visually peruse the bookshelf in mention. A lot of the books look rather old, and much too boring to her -  _ The Calamity in Detail, A Cultural History of the Gobinoids of Wildmount, The Zeminia Fields and the Zeminian Language in the Modern Day Dwendalian Empire, A Fashionable Illusion: a History of Illusory Magics in Clothing and Fashion Across Exandria - Boring! So boring! Maybe the last one could be interesting, but - where’s the romance? Where’s the smut? Where’s the good stuff?  _

Jester looks up at the topmost shelf, and sees a simple, thinner book, bound in plain brown leather, with the title  _ Across the Seas of Time _ , appearing so unique in this vast collection of mostly academic or history books. “ _ Across the Seas of Time _ ? What’s that one about?” Jester wonders aloud, turning back to look at Essek. 

Essek almost blushes for a moment, seeming a tad embarrassed. “Ah, that one - I don’t read fiction that often, but that’s one of the few fiction books I happen to enjoy. It’s about… it’s about a Drow Chronurgist obsessed with going backwards in time to prevent a great tragedy, who… falls in a love with a human girl, and is torn between preventing a great loss at the sacrifice of himself, and staying with the one he loves. It’s very well written.” He looks down at the floor slightly, before continuing his neutral stare forwards towards the bookcase. 

“Does it have smut in it?” Jester asks bluntly, almost knocking Essek completely off-kilter. 

Essek clears his throat nervously. “Ah, well… it has…  _ scenes _ …” 

“Ooooh! Then I want it!” Jester’s eyes light up at the prospect. “I haven’t read new, good smut in a  _ looooong _ while. I’ve been reading the same two books for  _ months _ because we haven’t had any downtime to get new material, but I’ve practically memorized them by now, and they just don’t  _ do it _ for me anymore, you know?” 

Essek pauses, stifling a chuckle, a knowing but intrigued smirk spreading across his face. “Well then - why don’t you pocket it, hm?” 

Jester grins widely, her tongue slightly sticking out of her mouth, salivating at the prospect. “Okay okay okay okay!” Jester sets her sights on the book, and imagines taking it for her own, the feel of the leather against her skin, the smell of musty paper wafting as she sifts the pages open, and the story itself, of love and romance  _ across the seas of time _ , against all odds, and passionate, well written smut - and she curls her fingers, leading with her pinky in the familiar clockwise motion, and  _ wills _ it forward,  _ yanking  _ it toward her - and then, in an instant, the book is gone from the shelf, and she feels an almost suction-like feeling pulling the book into her wrist, and a sudden weight within the confines of an extraplanar dimension  _ within  _ her own being. 

Jester gasps aloud, her eyes transfixed on her own wrist, as she marvels in her own power. “Oh my Gods, oh my gods -” Jester looks up to the heavens, and raises her arm, “I  _ AM _ POWER!” Jester turns around, and looks up at Essek, a devilish grin on her face. “Essek - oh my Gods, this is going to be  _ soooooo _ good. They won’t know what hit them!” 

Essek smiles warmly back to her, his hand still resting on her hip, feeling deeply endeared to her charming antics. “I look forward to hearing of your endeavors.” 

“Oh man - I have some  _ plans _ !” Jester’s eyes light up with a delightfully fiendish intent. She pauses for a moment, biting down her on her tongue for a moment, trying to find the right words, before just smiling sweetly, and saying “Thank you Essek.” 

Essek feels a tug against his heartstrings at her simple words -  _ I want to hear that all the time. _ He smiles, and takes his right hand, and pats her on the head lightly. “You did good today. I - I was wrong to have ever doubted you.” Jester looks to the ground for a moment, remembering the first time he tried to teach magic to the Mighty Nein, and how he discarded her magical abilities. Essek clears his throat, a steeles himself, finding a rare resolve within himself to actually be a better man for once. “I’m sorry for doing so.” 

Jester shakes her head slightly, and gives a soft smile. “No need. We’re here now, ja? Friends? Respected allies? Teacher and student?” 

Essek allows his hand to drift through her navy locks for a moment, and that same deep yearning within him, focused directly and intently on her lips once more - but he pulls his hand back, and gently nods. “All of the above, in my book.” 

Jester giggles lightly, and sighs happily. “Oh, wait - can I… can I borrow that book? It sounds  _ really _ good…”

“Sure. I’ve read it enough times already. Go and have  _ fun _ .” Essek wags his brow slightly at his innuendo. 

Jester gives him a knowing smirk, and wags her brow back at him. “Oh, I  _ will _ .” 

Essek has to take a deep breath to try and clear his mind from the stunning image of Jester  _ having fun _ with his books, thoroughly enjoying herself with his possessions -  _ I’ll revisit that later - possibly tonight. _

Jester brings him into a big, strong hug, almost lifting his lithe Drow form off the ground. Essek gives a small surprised sound, before wrapping his arms around her in return, albeit a little tentatively at such direct physical contact. Jester gives him a quick, chaste peck on his cheek, causing Essek to blush a deep,  _ deep _ purple.  _ Gods above - there’s nothing quite like Jester Lavorre.  _


	5. Sad Boi Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said Possessive!Caleb? Yeah, here's that. (Is it unhealthy? Mayhaps. Don't worry, all shall be dealt with and addressed, from all sides.)

Feeling a new spark of chaos and power within her after her  _ date-not-date-but-definately-a-date  _ with Essek, Jester skips all the way back from his tower in the firmaments, leftover bearclaws in tow, Jester begins to  _ plot _ her next prank.  _ There’s just so much I can do now - I can steal  _ **_everything_ ** _! And they’ll never be able to ever find it! Oh man… what should I steal? _

Eventually finding her way back to the Xhorhaus, Jester tries to stealthily approach and open the front door, faltered by the door chimes Caduceus installed. Jester opens the door, and a small chorus of lilting chimes echo through the foyer. Jester cringes slightly for a moment, a little worried she’ll be discovered, when from the kitchen she hears the soothing and calm baritone of Caduceus. “Good evening Jester - you’ve come just in time for dinner. Come on in.” 

_ How is he so perceptive?! _ Jester tiptoes her way through the foyer, before coming into the dining room, where the rest of the Nein are seated around the dining table, idly chatting amongst themselves as they wait for dinner to be served, save for Caleb, who sits completely engrossed in his current book. 

She deftly makes her way to her usual seat between Caleb and Beau, moving as stealthily as she can, to try and avoid attention if at all possible. But as she takes her seat, Caleb puts down his book, a look of mild surprise mixed with relief in his expressive blue eyes. “Good evening Jester - we didn’t think you were coming. We didn’t know where you were - Veth just said you were ‘out’.” Jester can see the concern in his eyes, and can see the real question and worry beneath his pleasantries. 

“Yes. I went…  _ out. _ ” Jester looks to her lap, and the thought suddenly strikes her -  _ Why  _ **_exactly_ ** _ did Essek ask for me to not tell anyone?  _

Hearing her name, Veth’s attention is broken from her bickering with Fjord. “Hm? Oh - did you have  _ fun _ while you were  _ out _ , Jessie?” Veth raises her brows and gives Jester a knowing smirk, before leaning back in her chair and sipping from her mug looking very proud. 

“ _ Veth - _ ” Jester pointedly whispers, leaning in across the table, before taking a deep breath and straightening her spine, holding her chin aloft. “You know what? I did. I  _ did _ have  _ fun _ while I was  _ out _ .” 

“Mhmmmm. ‘Atta girl.” Veth says from behind her mug. 

Caleb puts down his book on the table, pausing, and then closing the spine rather loudly. He himself takes a deep breath, before putting his book on his lap. His mind feels like its going a million miles a minute, his head trying to properly compute all the insinuations and innuendo being flung across the table, and deep down, not really  _ wanting _ to compute it all, to really have to face the meaning of all of it, because that would mean -  _ She never really was yours, Widogast. Not for a bad man like you. No - not you. Never you.  _ Caleb glups audibly, trying to swallow the hard pill thrust in front of him, and trying to reign himself in. 

“ _ Well _ ,” Caleb mutters, perhaps a little more pointedly than he would have liked, “as long as you had  _ fun _ .” An unexpected venom courses through his words, surprising even him at it's lack of restraint.   


Jester’s face falls slightly, picking up on the subtle pained expression on Caleb’s face, and the bitter tinge to his tone.  _ Is he mad at me? Did I do something to make him mad? _ Jester looks at him confusedly, not really understanding his reaction, before returning her gaze to her lap. 

“Dinner is served!” Caduceus brings out several large platters of roasted vegetables, soup, rice, and bread rolls for the whole table, everything served in their typical family style. Caduceus sits down, and everyone begins serving themselves, eagerly spooning heaps and mounds of delicious homemade food upon their large plates. 

They tuck into their meal, pleasant conversation flitting about the table, but Caleb and Jester stay quiet, each looking slightly downcast as they eat, avoiding looking looking at the other, awkwardly passing each the rolls and various serving platters, but not really eating much - not really having the heart to. 

Not too long after, Caleb blots his mouth with his napkin, and unceremoniously rises form the table. “Excuse me.” He leaves without looking at any of the other members of the Nein, especially not Jester, and her heart sinks a little at his sudden coldness. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Caleb lies awake in his bed that night, stewing, _marinating,_ his mind stuck on those words Veth said so salaciously yet casually at dinner - “ _Did you have_ ** _fun_** _while you were_ ** _out_** _, Jessie?”_ _What does it mean, ‘fun’? Where did she go? Is she seeing someone? Does she have a lover?_

He tosses and turns in his bed, trying desperately to block out the mounting urge to just -  _ scream _ , or  _ cry _ , or maybe both -  _ Gods, what am I? How pathetic am I, a grown man, acting like a goddamn child over a girl?  _

__ _ But it’s not just any girl, is it? It’s Jester. It’s  _ **_Jester_ ** _.  _

__ _ You’re in love with her. You’re in  _ **_love_ ** _ with her, Widogast - and you’re a fool for doing so.  _

__ _ It’s a lost cause. It’s always been a lost cause.  _ **_She was never for you_ ** _. Not you.  _

__ **_Never you_ ** _.  _

__ _ You don’t deserve it.  _ **_You don’t deserve her_ ** _.  _

__ _ It would be a lost cause, anyways. You hurt the ones you love. You  _ **_always_ ** _ hurt the ones you love. It’s only a matter of time. _

__ **_It’s only a matter of time_ ** _.  _

_ -/-/-/-/-/-/-  _

Similarly, Jester lies restlessly in her bed, unable to sleep, _again_ \- she’s alone in her same nightgown, in the same lonely and anxious state, and she feels a mounting sense of frustration well within her as last night, once again, worrying she’s secretly making people _mad_ at her, that she’s secretly _annoying_ people, and that they secretly _hate_ her - _Oh, I could just_ ** _scream_** _right now! And when I’ve had such a good day, such a_ ** _lovely_** _,_ ** _wonderful,_** ** _magical_** _day with Essek!_

__ Jester plops her face into her pillow, and lets out a muffled cry of anguish into its plush confines. After letting herself have her moment, she sits back up, grabs ahold of her pillow, and  _ throws _ it across the room, chucking it with impressive strength and fervor. She lets out a huff, and curls into a ball, tucking her chin on her knees, and wrapping her arms around her legs. SHe worries away on her lip idly, and tries her best to  _ calm _ down. 

_ He can’t be mad at you - He’s Caleb! He’s your - he’s your  _ **_dear_ ** _ friend, that you care about  _ **_very_ ** _ much, who cares about you  _ **_very_ ** _ much - why would he even be  _ **_mad_ ** _ at you? You did  _ **_nothing_ ** _ wrong! You did  _ **_nothing_ ** _ wrong.  _

__ _ Hmpfh.  _

__ _ Still. What the hells?  _

__ Then, a sudden strike of inspiration hits her, causing her to bolt straight up in her bed, her eyes going wide, overcome with new purpose and genius.  _ Caleb! It’s Caleb! Oh - oh ho ho ho ~  _ **_he’s_ ** _ my next target! He’s gonna get pranked sooooooooo hard!  _

And she smiles, no -  _ grins _ , fiendishly, her tail whipping around behind her, causing a storm in her bedding. 

_ Caleb  _ **_looooves_ ** _ pranks - he’ll be sooooooo impressed with me, and impressed with my magical capabilities, he’ll be like ‘Oh my gods, Jester, I’m so sorry for being a dick to you at dinner, you’re so awesome and amazing, and like, totally better at magic than me, I bow down to your power, supreme leader of the Mighty Nein, Clerical Goddess of Trickery -  _ **_YES!_ ** _ Yes, yes - this is like, tooooootally gonna work. Oh my gods oh my gods - this is gonna be so good!  _

__ _ Now, what to steal…  _


	6. Taking the Shirt Off a Poor Man's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An absolutely phat chapter for y'all, hopefully to make up for the short last chapter. The rating has gone up, because things are progressively getting hornier as quarantine goes on, it seems. Widojests come get ya juice.

Jester wakes that morning with a newfound zeal with herself, with a grin plastered on her drowsy early morning face.  _ I’m going to get him  _ **_so_ ** _ good.  _

Jester dresses quickly, putting on a simple pair of pink, frilly silk satin lounge shorts, and a simple white linen tank top, dressed for optimal comfort and ease of motion. She skips downstairs, where the smell of brewing tea, eggs, and toast wafts through the air. Armed with a leftover bearclaw in her hands, she stops in on the kitchen, giving a cooking Caduceus a quick ‘good morning’ squeeze, taking a cup of dead people black tea with her as she sits down in the small breakfast nook next to a completely absorbed Caleb, engrossed in his book, pausing only to lightly sip his piping hot cup of tea. 

“Gooooood morning, Caleb!” Jester greets him in a sing-song manner. 

Caleb clears his throat slightly, and turns the page. “Good morning, Jester.” He doesn’t look up at her, his eyes instead resolutely scanning the page left to right. 

_ Hmmmrpfh.  _ Jester pointedly takes a bite of her bearclaw, trying her best to accentuate her rare treat, and make its presence known. He doesn’t bite.  **_Hmmmrpfh._ ** So, she makes a show of licking the sticky icing from her fingers, going one by one, down the line, ending with her thumb, as she looks to Caleb for her reaction. 

Internally, Caleb does his best to not blush.  _ She’s teasing me.  _ He takes a deep breath and turns the page, not allowing himself to look at her display, knowing that if he  _ did _ , his thoughts would go racing even more than they already are, and they would most  _ definitely _ go in a direction not currently appropriate for the breakfast table. He can  _ just _ see over the edge of his current novel her doe-like eyes, an innocent expression masking for some sort of devious alternative motive. Just the tip of her forked tongue slips out of her blueberry lips, and he nearly chokes on his own spit for a moment, forcing himself to take a  _ deep _ breath, and drudge his mind up from the gutter.  _ Fine, Lavorre - I'll bite.  _

“Bearclaws, hm?” He looks up at her for just a  _ moment _ , knowing that he’s taking her bait, but still wanting to figure out  _ what _ in the  _ hells _ she’s getting at. 

“ _ Yes _ , I got them when I was  _ out _ .” Jester gives a self satisfied smirk, but internally trying to gauge his reaction, and trying to figure out just exactly  _ why _ this one phrase was setting him off. 

“Hmmm.” Caleb hums to himself, avoiding eye contact with her, feeling his jaw tense slightly, before catching himself -  _ She’s a grown woman, Widogast. She can do as she please, with or without you _ . He takes another deep breath, and unclenches his muscles. And yet, deep within him, an irrational, bitter twinge pulls at him -  _ But still… _

“Are you going  _ out _ today Caleb?” Jester takes another bite of her pastry, allowing the tip of her tail to lightly, idly, tap against Caleb’s ankle. 

Caleb immediately freezes, tensing in place at her errant touch, wanting to both skirt away from it and lean into it at the same time, instead opting for just staying still and unmoving against it. “ _ No, _ Jester, I am not going  _ out _ . I’ll be in my study,  _ reading _ , thank you very much.” And with that, he snaps his book shut, takes his cup of tea in hand, and leaves. 

For a moment, Jester considers simply  _ wrapping _ her tail around his ankle and holding him there, forcing him to talk things out with her like  _ real _ adults -  _ but no - pranks are soooooo much better.  _ So she lets him go, taking a sip of her tea as she watches him leave.  _ For now, Widogast - I’ll let you leave my grips for  _ **_now_ ** . 

-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

So, Jester waits, and  _ waits -  _ for  _ several  _ hours. She gives him time to get comfortable -  _ to become ‘unawares’ _ .  _ Let him become soooooo engrossed in his stupid book - that he won’t even see me coming.  _

So, after three hours, which she filled reading herself, cracking open  _ Across the Seas of Time,  _ and already finding herself sucked into the story - of the handsome, suave, but haunted Drow Chronurgist Rhysadyl, and his slow but gradual fall of the sweet and bubbly wide-eyed human Druid Celensa, a fish out of water in a foreign land who latches onto the aloof and slightly cold Wizard, but slowly weasels her way into his heart. She is not immune to the parallels, and deeply considers for a moment if Essek purposely planted that book there to send a  _ message _ \- the thought of him trying to confess something through the book makes her heart sing a little, but she brushes the thought off.  _ You’re reading too much into coincidence, Jester - it’s just a small act of chaos, act of universal randomness, all that - but it would be so  _ **_romantic_ ** _ , wouldn’t it? _ She lets herself mull over the fantasy of it for a hot second, before shaking her head, righting herself to the task at hand.  _ Focus, Lavorre. Caleb.  _ **_Caleb_ ** _. It’s time.  _

So, she sets the book aside -  _ I’ll be back for you later _ \- and prepares herself for her master plan. Having decided upon her target of Caleb’s possession, she first and foremostly takes off her thin linen camisole. Naked from the waist up, she casts Pass Without Trace on herself, and grins wickedly to herself. 

So, extra,  _ suuuuuper _ super stealthily, making sure than nobody in the Nein would bump into her in the halls of the Xhorhaus in a curious and questionable state, and tiptoes her way around the house, careful not to step on any errant floorboards. Once she’s outside of Caleb’s room, she presses her ear to the door, waiting for any sign of movement. All she hears is the rustling of pages. 

Slowly, deftly, and  _ gently _ , Jester takes a hold of the door handle, and  _ ever _ so slightly begins to open the door. She pauses, waiting to see if there’s any reaction -  _ nothing _ . Caleb turns the page. 

So, she opens the door a tad bit more, and sees a hunched over Caleb, fully enraptured with his book, clad in his usual dark breeches, book holsters, and a simple, Xhorhassian collared white linen shirt.  _ Excellent. _ Jester opens the door a little more only to have the hinge make an abrupt,  _ loud _ creaking noise. 

“ _ Shit _ .” Jester whispers under her breath. 

Caleb, suddenly thrust out of his fantasy world, whips his head around to see the face of his intruder, only to see Jester Lavorre, clad in short pink satin frilly shorts, and  _ nothing _ else. Immediately, he flushes a  _ beet _ red, along with certain  _ other _ parts of his body beginning to  _ flush _ per se, and try as he might, all he can do is  _ stare _ . Caleb has seen Jester naked - he’s seen  _ all _ of the Nein naked, in their numerous trips the bathhouses, and with his keen mind, he still has  _ all _ of her body permanently ingrained into his memory - it’s a sight he can’t  _ help _ but remember - perfectly curvy, yet muscular, and slight all at once, with hip and thighs that could crush a man, and breasts the exact  _ perfect _ size of his hands. But seeing Jester here, in these teasingly short shorts, and her perfect,  _ perfect _ breasts so brazenly on display right in front of him - he short-circuits for a moment, forgetting to question just exactly  _ why _ she is here, dressed (or not dressed) like  _ this. _

All he sees is her right hand make a particular gesture unknown to him, a sort of clockwise turn and  _ yank, _ and suddenly, his shirt is  _ gone _ . Just -  _ gone. _ And then she bolts. 

To say Caleb is confused is an understatement - Caleb puzzled, perplexed, and downright  _ bewildered _ at the  _ wild _ series of events that just unfolded in front of him in the span of exactly six seconds. But he gets up from his seat, dropping his book to the floor and letting it clatter against the hardwood, and calls after her. “Jester -  _ Jester - _ **_Genevieve Jester Lavorre!_ ** ”

Jester, giggling maniacally all the way, once of out sight from Caleb, summons his shirt from the pocket dimension within her wrist, and puts it on - it’s a little large on her, even with  Caleb’s thin frame, he’s still a good six or seven inches taller than her, making the shirt fall to her mid thigh, falling past her shorts. She Invokes Duplicity, and sends her duplicate running in the opposite direction,  _ past _ Caleb, and Dimension doors into her own room, and  _ locks _ the door. 

Caleb, seeing a flash of temptingly blue skin, clad in his  _ own _ shirt running across the hall, he  _ bolts,  _ using all the meager strength he can muster in his squishy-Wizard body to chase after her. He’s gaining on her, this sly cobalt devil, and right as she begins to mount the spiral staircase heading towards the rooftop garden. Right as she’s within range, he leaps forward attempting to grab a hold of her arm and grapple her in place, only to have his hand pass  _ right  _ through her. 

_ Gods damn you Lavorre! _ Jester’s duplicate sticks her forked tongue out at him, before vanishing right before his eyes. 

He lets out a frustrated grunt, before breaking into a smile, letting out a small chuckle against his inward aggravation at her mischievous antics. Pulling out a thin copper wire and pointing his finger in the direction of Jester’s room, casting Message. “ _ I’m coming for you, Blueberry.”  _

Jester hears Caleb’s voice suddenly appear in her head, his tone low, almost hoarse and hushed in a way she’s rarely if ever heard from him, which sends an involuntary shiver down her spine. “ _ If you can~”  _ Jester replies to his message in a lightly teasing singsong-y tone. 

Knowing that she doesn’t have long until he’d be at her door, she contemplates for a moment casting Glyph of Warding on the handle just to fuck with him further, but thinks against it given the intense components and time constraints - and besides,  _ I ultimately  _ **_do_ ** _ want him to catch me.  _ So, she plops herself down on her bed, grabs her book, and lies on her stomach, legs kicking in the air, playing idle and pretending to read nonchalantly, painting the picture of innocence for when he eventually finds her.

Caleb runs through the house, passing a very confused Yasha in the halls as he goes. “Everything alright, Caleb?” She calls out to him as he passes. 

“Excellent, Yasha!” Caleb shouts as he zips up the stairs. 

“O-okay! Just - let me know!” She replies across the house confusedly. 

“I will!” Caleb replies from the top of the stairs, his eyes focused intently on the door to Beau and Jester’s room. He deeply,  _ deeply _ hopes Beau has vacated the premises, and is not anywhere inside, for what he can only imagine will end up being an…  _ interesting _ confrontation. 

Caleb pauses his frantic pace, and walks quietly up to the door, where he politely knocks on the door. “Jester, would you open the door please?” 

Jester smiles to herself. “I’m reading, Caleb - don’t you know its rude to interrupt someone when they’re reading?”

Caleb cracks a smile himself. “Oh, yes, don’t I know it -” He allows a playful sarcasm to drip through his response, “but I think you might have something of mine that I would very much like back, please.” 

“Do I?” Jester plays slightly with the cuffs of the shirt, which reach far past her arms. “I don’t know - what _ ever _ could you be talking about?”

Caleb tries the door, which is locked, of  _ course _ . “I think I might know - could you please open this door for me?” 

Jester pouts her lips slightly. “Hmm… nope!” 

Caleb sighs slightly. “Alright -  _ then I will. _ ” And casts Knock on the door, causing it to blow open. He’s greeted by the sight of Jester Lavorre wearing his own damn shirt, which seems to almost swallow her whole and gives the slight illusion of her not wearing any clothes  _ save _ for his own (a sight which he  _ definitely  _ catalogues for…  _ personal use _ later), lying prostrate on her stomach in her bed, her legs kicking slightly in the air, with a book he doesn’t recognize in her hands. 

“Caleb -” Jester sets down her book, “I did not know you would be coming. Whatever could be the reason for you to  _ Knock _ on my door, hm?” 

Caleb chuckles slightly. “May I come in?” He politely asks her, the manners ingrained to him through his schooling nonetheless kicking in. 

“ _ Well _ , when you ask so nicely - sure.” 

Caleb steps into her room, and shuts the door behind him, walking up to the foot of her bed, and casually leans his side against the wall. “Do you want to explain to me exactly why you decided to barge into my study like  _ that _ , Jester?” 

Jester bites down on her bottom lip with one of her fangs slightly, taking a moment to visually process the  _ extremely _ striking image of Caleb Widogast in nothing but breeches and book holsters. All this adventuring had definitely had an impact on Caleb’s physique, making his frame while still slight, a little more built, a hint of muscle now on his shoulders and chest. And his chest… Jester tries her best not to stare, but is caught up in how  _ nice _ it would feel to lie against it, and play with the light smattering of red chest hair peppering his pecs. “Do you not  _ want _ me barging into your study like  _ that _ ?” Jester decides to tease him further, wanting to just quite see how far she can go with this. 

Caleb gulps slightly at her insinuation, and takes a moment to collect himself, deciding that if  _ she’s _ going to try and have fun with him like this - surely he can fight fire with fire. “ _ I said nothing of the sort _ .” He can see Jester blush lightly at his words, and he bites back a smirk. “I am merely - a little  _ taken aback _ by its…  _ abruptness _ , so to say. And by your thievery of the shirt off my own back, of course.” 

“Really?  _ I _ thought it would be obvious ~” Jester sticks her nose up in the air, breaking eye contact with him faux-aloofly. 

“Hm, did you now?” Caleb quips back. “Illuminate it for me.” 

Jester looks back to Caleb, a grin on her face. “It was a _prank,_ _Caleb!_ And I got you like, _sooooooooo_ good you know!” 

“Ah, well, considered me ‘got’.” He concedes to her. “Now, was this simply a random assault, an attack of opportunity, or premeditated?” 

“ _ Premeditated _ , you could say. But I knew you would appreciate it!” 

“Yes, you could say I certainly did.” He freely admits. 

“ _ God! _ Because like, I was worried that you  _ hated _ me and stuff-”

“I don’t  _ hate _ you, Jester -” Caleb cuts her off, “why would you ever think that?” 

Jester pauses, herself now a little confused, sitting up from her position on her bed. “Last night at dinner, you seemed like - really mad at me. You seemed like - I dunno, just  _ cold _ . But like at me specifically. You wouldn’t even look at me. And even today at breakfast, you just seemed -  _ mad _ .” 

Caleb takes a deep breath, and looks down to the floor for a moment, tensing his jaw slightly, before looking back in Jester’s eyes. “I’m not mad, Jester. I’m - I’m sorry for how I treated you. That was never my intention.” 

Jester pats the space in front of her on the bed, motioning for him to join her. He complies, albeit a little sheepishly at the thought of sitting on her  _ own  _ bed, shirtless, with her in his  _ own _ shirt -  _ Stay on task, Widogast.  _

“Are you okay, Caleb?” Jester asks him, genuine concern in her eyes. 

_ How do I answer that question?  _ “I’m fine.” Caleb can see her skepticism at his words. “Really, I am.” 

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” Jester looks down at her own hands for a moment, feeling the urge to grab his hand to try and comfort a clearly  _ not _ fully okay Caleb, but she holds off on it for now, knowing how skittish he is of being touched. 

A deep feeling of shame washes over him at seeing her so genuinely concerned for him -  _ And all because you were bitter and jealous over Jester doing as she pleases with someone you don’t even know. Do better, Widogast. _ “I know that.” He replies softly. 

“Because if it’s something that I’m doing that I can change, or if I need to -” 

“It’s - no. Don’t change a thing, Jester.” And it kills him to say it, because of how much and how deeply he  _ wants _ her, and how much he wants to be the one she goes  _ ‘out’ _ with -  _ But you don’t own her, now do you?  _

“You  _ sure _ ?” She leans her head forward slightly, still not fully believing his words. 

Caleb nods lightly, his eyes going to his hands in his lap for a moment, before looking back to her eyes. “I’m sure. I’ve just - I guess I’ve just been in a bit of a funk, is all.”

“ _ Okay _ \- as long as it’s just a ‘funk’. Know I’m here for you though, okay? Really truly honestly.” This time Jester simply goes for it, taking one of his hands in her, and squeezing it. 

Every single touch Jester gives Caleb is a gift in his mind, and he tries his best to always savor them, and try to record the feeling in his memory, memorize her like a chunk of text - but a memory is not satisfactory for him. He always craves the real thing. And so when she grabs his hand and squeezes it, he feels blessed, like he’s been given a tremendous present, and as warmth spreads through him even despite the cool temperature of her skin. “Thank you, Jester.” He squeezes her hand back, not able to restrain the soft smile spreading across his face. 

Caleb looks down at their joined hands, letting himself take a moment to take it in, before letting his thumb start making small circles across her knuckles. “I do have a question, though.” Jester perks up, tilting her head slightly at him. “Perhaps it’s completely unrelated, but - I don’t think I’ve ever quite  _ seen _ the spell I saw you use. What’s it called?” 

“Wrist Pocket! It’s a new spell of mine - it’s Dunamancy, you know.” Jester gives him a smug little quirk of her brow, looking rather self-satisfied and proud of herself. 

“ _ Really _ ,” Caleb remarks, a little taken aback by that knowledge, “where exactly did you learn that?” 

“Oh, you know,” Jester looks down at her bed sheets for a moment, trying to formulate a believable response, “I’m just like…  _ really _ cool and powerful and stuff, and I just… know things, I guess.” Jester purses her lips nervously, trying to avoid her peering eyes. 

_ Why exactly would she be hiding where she learned this?  _ “Hmm. Well that much is true, but - Dunanmancy is a highly guarded secret here in the Dynasty, and is extremely hard to come by.” Caleb stops short of asking the question again, but makes his intent still known. 

Jester takes a deep breath, and looks back at him, steeling herself for a moment, before finding her resolve and caving for his penetrating blue eyes. “Okay okay okay okay - you have to  _ promise  _ to keep this a secret, alright, because I was told not to tell anyone, okay? So, like - promise me Caleb. Pinky swear?” Jester holds up her free hand, extending her pinky towards him. 

Intrigued, Caleb links his pinky with hers, and squeezes it slightly. “Pinky swear.” 

Jester releases her pinky from its hold, and moves to knot her fingers in the excess of Caleb’s soft shirt nervously. “Soooooooo basically, I kinda Messaged Essek two nights ago on a whim I guess, and the two of us got to talking and all, and he was like ‘Oh my gosh, Jester, you know magic, and you’re like, super super powerful and stuff, why don’t I teach you some magic and shit, come over tomorrow and we can have like a study date-not-date-but- _ super _ -totally-a-date-and-stuff, and I’ll bring pastries!’ And so I went over yesterday, and he had bearclaws, which are like apparently not a thing here in the Dynasty, so he  _ toooootally  _ had those special made for me because he likes me so much, and we had fun and he taught me Dunamancy! And he’s a really good teacher you know, and - Oh! Oh! So, like I originally asked for him to teach me the chair thing so I don’t have to use any of your gold dust for pranks, so that you don’t waste any components and stuff, but he was like, ‘Caleb is super powerful and completely capable of teaching you that spell on his own’, so you know - we can have our own study session, Caleb! But anyways, he wanted to teach me this spell in particular, because he thought it would be good for pranks, because I specifically asked for Dunamancy good for pranks in my Messages - but it’s this spell that creates a extra-planar pocket dimension within your own wrist, but can only hold one object up to five pounds, and only for one hour, so it’s limited, but is  _ suuuuuper _ cool and useful, and also really good for pranks, you know.” 

Caleb allows Jester to ramble in her usual adorable way, and tries his best to mask his true, gut reaction at all her words, and try and stoke those same flames of  _ jealousy _ with him. “So I have Essek to thank for you stealing my shirt, ja?” 

“Basically, ja.” Jester nods. 

_ Essek. Essek of all people.  _ “And he taught you this spell… did he ask for anything in return?”

Jester scrunches her face a little, wary of his question and it’s implications. “No - no, he didn’t ask for anything in  _ return _ \- why do you ask? Do you doubt me?” Jester retracts her hand holding his slightly. 

Not wanting to lose the sweet contact of her skin on his, he holds her head steadfastly, chasing after her touch, and not letting it leave his grasp. “No no no -  _ never _ , Jester, never.” Jester nods, accepting his response, and holding his hand in earnest once more. “I only ask because he was so reluctant in teaching me the ‘chair thing’, and made it known that he expected a favor in return. That’s all.” 

“No - he didn’t ask for any favor or anything like that.” Jester gives him a knowing smile, and begins to walk her fingers, up his arm, accenting their steps on every word. “I guess that just means that he likes me better than you.” She ends with jabbing her pointer finger on his bare chest, causing Caleb to have a slightly flustered look on his face, a light flush dusting his cheeks. 

“Clearly.” Caleb concedes. 

He stares at Jester, a pregnant pause filling the air and he does the mental calculus over exactly what all of this means. He can’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut that Essek has  _ some _ sort of ulterior motive in all of this -  _ It’s just so deeply out of character for him. From my perspective, he has always acted in opposition to Jester, and only tried to distance himself from her - well, from all of us, in all honesty. It just doesn’t make sense why he would do this if he wasn’t getting something out of it for him. _ And Caleb doesn’t want to really  _ think _ about what that ‘something’ could be.  _ It just doesn’t sit well with me - he’s proven untrustworthy and a cheat - a ruthless man who active took part in torture and the death of others.  _ But then Caleb has to sit there and face the true facts of the matter -  **_But so have you_ ** _. _ Caleb shakes his head slightly, looking down at the pink sheets of Jester’s bed.  _ But - that was different - you were under Trent’s thumb, you... you were a child.  _

Caleb takes a deep breath, and returns his gaze to Jester, who looks up at him expectantly.  _ I just don’t trust him with her _ . “Why were you sworn to secrecy?” He purses his lips slightly, trying to not show his discomfort with the situation. 

“You know - I don’t really know.” Jester confesses, herself still a little confused by that request. “He just said so in his message. I think it’s because it’s Dunamancy, you know - being a ‘highly guarded secret of the Dynasty’ and all.” 

Caleb’s jaw clenches for a moment, before he lets out a short exhale, nodding slightly. “I’m sure that’s why.” He tentatively agrees with her as he pats her hand holding his. 

Jester smiles to herself for a moment. She begins to play with the fabric of Caleb’s shirt, before looking up at Caleb with her best puppy dog eyes. “Hey Caleb?” 

“Yes?” Looking at her wide, doe like lavender eyes, Caleb swears his cold heart swells in size. 

“... Can I keep your shirt?” Jester bites down on her lip, genuinely a little nervous to ask. “It’s just that it’s really…  _ soft _ , and it’s really soft, and its smells nice…” 

Caleb smirks slightly. “You think I smell nice?” He replies teasingly. 

“You know that all of those jokes about you smelling bad were just in jest, right? Like me, Jester?”

His smile goes soft, as he squeezes her hand. “I know, Blueberry.” He considers it for a moment -  _ It’s a very nice shirt _ \- but he looks at her, looking so adorable, so precious, and so  _ domestic _ in his own clothes, and his smile grows.  _ But it looks better on her _ . “Keep it. It - it looks good on you.” 

Jester blushes a deep purple, averting her eyes to the bed. “Thank you, Caleb.” 

He brushes his thumb against her knuckles one more time before getting up from her bed, and reluctantly taking his hand away from hers. “Just try not to steal any more of my clothing, ja?” 

Jester gives a devilish smiles, and chuckles lightly. “I give  _ no _ promises.”


	7. In My Own Damn House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rise from the dead! I've been battling with a fever (completely unrelated to COVID-19, thankfully), and barely had a brain, so I haven't been able to pump out the volume of writing I've been able to previously, and I apologize for that. But, I'm feeling a little better now, and sure do love writing dialogue between two dueling Wizards! Enjoy!

The next day, sitting at the breakfast table, Caleb chews on his toast contemplatively, plotting his next move.  _ I just want to talk. Just try and figure out his true intentions. _ He looks across the table, to Jester, who quietly sips her tea, poking at her eggs with her fork.  _ I just need to make sure she’s safe. _

He resigns himself, taking a deep breath, before taking the last bite of his toast, and getting up from the table, putting his dishes in the sink, and beginning to head out of the room, before Caduceus pipes up after him. “Mr. Caleb, if you might -” Caleb stops in his tracks, turning around to face him.

“Yes?” He quirks a curious brow to the mellow Firbolg. 

“It just seemed like you were heading out.” Caleb gives pause, reminded just how insightful and  _ penetrating _ Caduceus’s external and internal perception can be. “While you’re out, if you would mind just making a quick stop for me - I’d like to invite Essek to dinner tomorrow.” 

The rest of the Nein sitting at the table look slightly taken aback by Caduceus's statement, Beau especially, with Jester being the lone excited and positive reaction, a wide smile breaking across her face, and her tail beginning to beat lightly against the kitchen tile. “Ja Ja Ja! Oh man, that would be so much fun!” Jester says enthusiastically, her eyes beginning to sparkle with possibility. 

Beau clears her throat, setting her own toast down on her plate. “Jester -  _ Caduceus _ \- I’m not quite sure that’s such a good idea.” Beau cautions, suddenly becoming much more guarded in her posture. 

Caleb nods his head slightly. “I have to admit I am in agreement with Beauregard here.” 

Jester scrunches her nose at the two of them. “Why not? He’s our friend, isn’t he?” 

There’s a tense pause around the table, as everyone looks amongst themselves, trying to gauge everyone else’s reactions and feelings on Jester’s statement. 

Veth is the first to speak up, “Yes, he’s - we’re  _ friends _ , Jessie, it’s just -” 

Beau cuts her off, “- It’s just that there’s some deep trust that’s been broken here.” 

Caduceus sets down his cup of tea lightly on the table. “Well that’s exactly why I want to have him over.” Beau gives Caduceus a wary side-eye. “As you said, there’s some deep trust that’s been broken here - there’s clearly a dent in our relationship with him. Now, we have two options: either we allow this seed of doubt and mistrust to root and fester, and we then have a powerful enemy who we  _ do _ actually like as a friend at our backs,  _ or _ , we can try and treat the wound - talk things out, air our grievances, and try to slowly rebuild that trust, and regain our ally and friend who can help us later on down the road. I say we choose the latter.” 

Everyone takes a moment to mull over Caduceus’s pearl of wisdom for a moment, before Yaska takes Beau’s hand, and breaks the silence. “He’s right, Beau.” Beau’s jaw tenses slightly, clearly thinking it over in her head, but still not fully convinced at the notion. “I don’t like what he did. It was a bad thing, that caused the death of many -  _ but _ ... having  _ been _ the ‘bad thing’ that caused the death of many - I like to think that I still am worthy of a second chance.” 

Beau takes a deep inhale, her eyes flitting about to Yasha, Caleb, Caduceus, Jester, and then back to Yasha, who she stares at for a prolonged, contemplative silence. She exhales, sighing, before relenting, nodding her head slightly. “ _ Okay. _ Okay. Fine.” She leans back in her chair, and squeezes Yasha’s hand. 

“I’ll go.” Caleb resigns himself, seeing the wisdom in the venture, even reluctantly. “I was heading in that direction anyways.” He leaves the kitchen, heading to the foyer to grab his coat and scarf from the doorpost. 

“Say hi to him from meeeeeee!” Jester calls out from the kitchen. 

Caleb sets his jaw and doesn’t respond to her, opening the door, hearing the light tinkling of the door chimes as he leaves the Xhorhaus for Essek’s tower. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The whole walk to the Firmaments, Caleb’s mind is a swirl t0 he has to force himself to just keep moving forward, and try to psych himself up to doing this, and not just turning around and leaving out of the sheer anxiety of it.  _ What am I going to do - stroll into the most powerful Mage in Xhorhas’s tower and demand he back off? Oh, and then invite him to dinner? Excellent plan, Widogast, this’ll go well. _ He lets out a stiff exhale as he walks down the cobblestone sidewalks, and shakes his head slightly.  _ I just want to talk. A mere conversation. Just to see where his head’s at in all this. I just need a clear, unsullied, and honorable motive from him - if such a thing is even capable given the man in question.  _

Stewing all the way there, he eventually comes upon Essek’s tower (or towers, more like it), and finds the nerve to knock on the door. There’s a long pause, and for a moment Caleb has the thought to simply take this chance to bolt right out of there, but he stays regardless -  _ For Jester, this is for Jester.  _

__ Eventually, the door opens, where he’s greeted by a slightly surprised, if not cautiously curious looking Essek, wearing a much more relaxed sort of house-dress attire, with an extremely well draped and billowing midnight blue silk satin open robe and a simple open-chested black skirt and breeches. “Caleb - this is certainly a surprise. I was not expecting company today.” 

“Yes, well -” Caleb looks down slightly, trying to formulate a good reason for being there, “ah -  _ surprise.” _

Essek’s eyes narrow slightly, his icy stare almost seeming to pierce directly through him and his guise - but he cocks a lazy yet intrigued smirk, and gestures his hand forth into his home. “Well - I welcome  _ surprise _ .” Caleb nods slightly, and follows the lead of the handsome drow, heading in. Once inside, Essek motions towards the couches in the parlor. “Please, have a seat - should I put a kettle on?” 

“Ah - sure, why not. If it’s not too much.” 

“Not at all.” Essek does a slight gesture with his fingers, and in the background an unseen servant begins making tea. 

“So,” Essek begins, “any particular reason for this  _ surprise _ ?” 

“Yes - two reasons, actually.” Caleb takes a deep breath, and steels his resolve. “ _ So _ \- the other day, I was alone, in my study reading one of my new books, when suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, the very shirt on my back simply disappeared out of existence.” 

Essek’s jaw tenses slightly, as he restrains what would be a telling smile -  _ An excellent application of my teaching, Jester _ . But it worries him nonetheless -  _ But why is he  _ **_here_ ** _ , though?  _ “That certainly sounds like an interesting afternoon.” 

“Ja, you could say that.” Caleb retorts. There’s a slight pause, as Caleb tries to assess Essek for any sort of reaction, but as always, he remains elusive in his expression and demeanor. “So, obviously, deeply confused, I went to go search for the source of this unknown magic, and wouldn’t you know it - I find one Jester Lavorre idly lounging in her room in my own stolen shirt.” 

Essek doesn’t quite want to think of Jester wearing another man’s shirt, a small tinge of jealousy coursing through him like an unwanted shiver. Caleb gives him an imploring look, clearly attempting to shake him down through subtext -  _ Let him  _ **_try_ ** _. _ “Really now?” He replies coyly, feigning innocence in this endeavor. 

“Yes, you can only imagine my surprise.” Caleb mutters dryly.  _ He’s impassive as always.  _ “So, when I found her - I questioned her as the specifics of the spell she used, as I had not seen it before, and you can imagine my shock when she told me that it was actually Dunamancy.” 

“ _ Hmmm. _ ” Essek bites the inside of his cheek, and tilts his head slightly as if he was seriously considering the matter. Behind them, a kettle begin to scream its boil. Essek turns his head to the direction of the kitchen, diverting his eyes from Caleb’s, makes a slight motion of fingers, and commands an unseen servant to begin brewing, and to bring the pot and full tea set out. “ _ Curious _ .” Essek responds, bringing his fingers to cup his chin, putting on a contemplative air.  _ It seems Jester is not good at keeping secrets, now is she?  _ He lets out a thin exhale, trying to clear his swimming thoughts.  _ Clearly something I need to address with her.  _

“Indeed.” Caleb pauses, trying to think things out logically -  _ If he’s asked her to keep this a secret, I  _ **_certainly_ ** _ don’t want her getting in trouble with  _ **_him_ ** _. That would only make things  _ **_much_ ** _ worse.  _ “She spoke to me of how not too long ago, the Traveler came to her, and taught her this new spell called ‘Wrist Pocket’ that he ‘picked up in his travels’ - and I suppose my question for  _ you _ would be - have you ever heard of the Divine outside of the Luxom granting their followers Dunamantic knowledge and power?” 

Essek taps his chin with his forefinger, and inhales deeply.  _ I see you, Widogast. _ “ _ No  _ \- I can’t say I have.” Essek can see Caleb’s eyes almost glimmer and sharpen, and Essek indulges the mere human man for a moment, allowing him to feel a momentary taste of victory, before continuing. “But - I am not a divine caster, so I cannot say for certain, as it is not my specialty. Nor can I speak on the particular magical capabilities and specialties of the Gods, as I confess I am not a man of faith - and to add further complication to the matter, this Traveler Jester worships is a God greatly unknown to the Dynasty - I had not heard worship of such a being until I met Jester, so I would say that I am most definitely ignorant as to his capabilities.” That glimmer in Caleb’s eyes dulls slightly, seeing Essek’s culpable ignorance to his particular line of questioning. 

**_Now - go in for the kill_ ** _. _ “Perhaps I should speak more in depth with Jester as to the particularities of her God? She seemed so intent on explaining him to me. I should invite her over sometime to fully assess the matter.” Essek can see Caleb tense at his suggestion, and feels a curl of satisfaction at the sudden daggers being thrown at him through the human man’s glare. “Tea?” Essek offers. 

Caleb gives a tense but polite close-lipped smile and nods at the handsome drow’s generosity, as an unseen servant pours tea for the two.  _ He knows. That smug bastard, he knows - and now he’s lauding it.  _ “But you know what - I think it is an act.” Caleb tries his best to restrain the venom in his tone, but fails, instead choosing to go full on offensive. 

Essek picks up his tea cup gracefully, and takes a small sip. “Do you now?” He replies nonchalantly. 

“ _ I do _ .” Caleb leans his elbows on his knees, and leans closer towards the Drow. “I think you and I both know full well that Dunamancy is a school of magic unknown outside of the Dynasty - or, perhaps your new friends at the Cerberus Assembly -” Caleb jabs, unable to stop himself from making the comment, causing Essek to now return his glare, “- and, outside of being an acolyte of the Luxom, Dunamancy is not within the normal capabilities and wheelhouse of Divine Casters - at least not without some  _ outside help _ .” 

There is a pointed pause, as the two wizards glare at the other, silently inspecting the other for any tell-tale signs of weakness, any vulnerability they can exploit, before Caleb continues. “And I  _ worry _ \- Dunamancy is such a highly guarded secret here in the Dynasty - I worry that in order to gain access to such knowledge, Jester may have accidentally indebted herself to some shady figure in exchange. I worry that the kind of person who would give out such secrets would surely ask for something great in return - something that I don’t think she’s ready to give.” 

**_Watch it, Widogast._ ** It’s Essek’s turn to silently seethe now -  _ To be accused of such a thing, in my own damn home - he doesn’t know quite what he’s messing with! _ “Hmm, like whom?” Essek counters, hurling the ball to his court to see if he has the  _ balls _ to throw it back. 

Caleb takes a deep breath. Essek’s eyes are so _frigid_ \- such an unnervingly pale shade of blue that seems to pierce _directly_ through him, completely seeing through his whole guise. And for a moment, Caleb feels a very real and palpable threat of danger from just his eyes alone, and all his fears and anxieties as to just how bad of a plan this all is really sets in, as adrenaline begins to pump through his veins. _He could kill me_ ** _right_** _now if he wishes - simply crush my body like he did to that Scourger. But -_ _I can’t stop now. I’ve come this far._ “I don’t know - would you?” 

Essek smiles into his teacup, stifling a small chuckle at his almost witty retort. “I think, Mr. Widogast, that all wizards can have…  _ territorial _ interests in regards to magic and the teaching of it. I think it is by our nature to view our peers to be rivals, and to be distrusting of our very kind.  _ However _ \- I think perhaps your worries seem to be…  _ ill-judged _ .” Caleb cocks a deeply suspicious and frustrated brow at him. “Or at least -  _ misplaced _ \- we both know Jester to be a very competent young woman, capable of fending for herself and felling anyone who would ever have such intentions like those of which you speak of. Or do you doubt it?” Essek takes a sip of tea. 

“ _ Never _ . Never. And it would do well for anyone to never doubt it themselves.” Caleb gives Essek one last long, hard, and probing stare - before picking up his own cup. “Perhaps I am simply overly cautious. I would hate for something to happen to such a dear friend.” He says before taking a tentative sip -  _ Nowhere near as good as Cadeucus’s.  _

“Yes -  _ dear _ indeed.” 

Caleb almost chokes on his tea, but manages to stifle it -  _ Shit. All your cards, Widogast, why not just give him the whole hand while you’re at it?  _

Essek can’t help the knowing smirk that spreads across his face. Feeling satisfied with the issue for now, he quickly changes the topic of conversation. “You said there was a second reason for your coming?”

“Ah, yes,” Caleb moves to hold his teacup gently in his hands on his lap, “Caduceus wished to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening. Apparently he has something special he’s cooking up, and decided you were the proper company to share it with.” 

_ Hmmm. Curious.  _ “Then I would be delighted. I look forward to being graced once more with your company.” He can tell Caleb is slightly disheartened by his answer by the telling stiff and slightly regretful smile on his face, which pleases him internally.  _ Another chance to see Jester, and hopefully to embarrass Caleb right in front of her - this’ll certainly be interesting.  _


	8. War Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know! More of a brief character study of Essek, and how I imagine that man is deep down anxious wreck like the rest of these idiots (and the rest of us, in all honesty). And, just some good ol' fashioned homo-erotic rivalry lol.

The next day, towards the later afternoon, Essek begins his proper pampering ritual. It has been a long while since he’s actually been to any sort of formal event, or had any activity that he’s felt the need to pull out all the stops on ( without being under an illusion, that is). But he’s a man on a mission -  _ Out-dress that filthy wizard _ . 

He’s a man who prides himself on appearance - a pretty face can get you very far in life, and it certainly has helped him in all of his endeavors - and as such, he knows what goes into maintaining his appearance. It’s calming to him, to leisurely take hours at a time to lavish himself in undivided self-care, to indulge himself in spending time to be relatively unproductive in the broader sense, but still end up with a finished product in the end. 

So he allows himself to take a deep soak, tinging his bath with sprigs of rosemary and lavender, and simply allowing himself to lie there with his own thoughts.  _ That visit by Caleb yesterday was certainly curious… clearly he suspects me of  _ **_something_ ** _. But, the funny thing is, for once, I’ve done  _ **_literally_ ** _ nothing wrong. I’ve taught Jester some magic. Lower level Dunamany, as I did with him. Granted, in a very…  _ **_different_ ** _ manner and teaching methodology, but still - no crime has been committed. No one was hurt, no favors were enacted, no innocence taken -  _ **_completely_ ** _ in fact, very much not style in fact.  _ But then Essek remembers the press of her body against his chest, his tight grasp on her plush hips, his breath against her freckled neck, and his hand on hers -  _ Well. Almost innocent. _

Like a sudden and all encompassing intrusive thought, much like she always does, Jester’s voice rings through his head through his signature Sending spell. “Hiiiiiii! Sooooooo, Caduceus says to come at 7. He’s been cooking like,  _ all day, _ so - it’s gonna be  _ real _ good. Come hungry! I’m making cakeeeee!” And before Essek can respond, Jester’s voice pierces through his thoughts once more. “I’m thinking chocolate - do you want chocolate cake, or vanilla? What about raspberry? Chocolate raspberry? Raspberry vanilla? Sprinkles? No? Frosting? Maybe even cream cheese frosting!!” 

Essek can’t help but be entertained at her enthusiasm at the prospect of baked goods, and the sound of a smile on her lips tugs at the corner of his own. Leaning his head against the lip of his bearclaw marble tub, he takes a deep breath, inhaling the aromatic scents of the lavender which she always seems to smell like, and smiles lazily. “I trust your expertise in this matter over my own - whatever you like best. I’ll be there at 7.” 

There’s no third message, which is slightly disappointing, but no matter - he has work to do. He regretfully leaves the warm embrace of the waters, leaving the tub to drain, toweling off, and putting on a simple black silk lounging robe. 

Making his way to his expansive walk in closet, he serveries the bounty in front of him -  _ Something that would impress her, and make the human feel deeply inferior at the same time… hmmm.  _ He makes his way to the back of the closet, towards the more relatively ostentatious (at least for his standards) section of clothing, and begins sifting through the rack.  _ Where is it - it’s somewhere in here - ah, there it is!  _

He plucks the hanger with a devilish grin, freeing the article from it’s protective garment bag, and letting his fingers idly play with the soft velvet fabric - and he feels positively  _ inspired _ , quickly selecting the accompanying pieces, and the laying them all out on his bed, along with all the necessary jewelry to complete the ensemble. He assesses his spread out masterpiece -  _ Perfect. Simply perfect _ . 

He leisurely paints his nails a pitch black, and starts on his makeup - he’s always been adept at painting his face, which he only sees as advantage over the other men he knows, who are either completely oblivious to the benefits of eyeliner entirely, or lacking the courage to actually try it themselves. He knows the stares he gets when he has a full face on, and the true lustful ogles he receives from any and all genders, and he can recognize the sense of  _ awakening _ in their perception of masculine attractiveness when he walks into the room with a perfectly applied bold lip and expertly blended smokey eye - it’s  _ palpable _ to him, their confused and suddenly eager attraction, and it never fails to give him to most delicious high. But it’s the thought of Jester - her eyes glued to him, her pupils dilating at his sight, her lips parting in a subtle gasp, and her cheeks flushing in the  _ exact _ way all the others do, but  _ better _ , because it’s  _ her _ \- he can feel an almost premonition of that same rush of power it gives him every time, and it’s all he can envision as he meticulously goes about his work, expertly smudging kohl around his waterline, and creating a thin but sharply ‘flicked’ cateye, lightly coating his top and bottom lashes in just enough mascara to make them more pronounced, and drawing on a a deep wine-dark lip with his favorite lipstick. 

He  _ knows _ he looks damn good.  _ Much better than that mere human.  _ He ruminates on Caleb’s pale skin, darker blue eyes, fiery mane,  _ those dimples, that sharply defined cleft chin…  _ He takes a deep breath, and sticks his chin up slightly, running his hair through his wavy cropped white locks.  **_No_ ** _. She’ll see it. Anyone can see it. There’s no comparison.  _ But like a nag, he feels a dark  _ tug _ , deep within the recesses of his psyche, that  _ tiny _ , buried, but still ever present sense of self doubt at his own affirmations. He’s a proud man, he knows it - but that prideful surface has always been built on a cracked foundation,  _ hasn’t it _ ?

So he stares in the mirror, all made up, and yet he still can see exactly where the eyeliner is uneven, the left wing  _ ever _ so slightly longer than the right, the thickness of his smudged lower liner  _ just _ on the hinge of being too much, and his lower lip -  _ his lower lip _ \- the right side is just  _ barely _ lower than the left - and all of it,  _ all _ of it, is just slowly eating away at him, gnawing on his confident resolve and sense of self-assuredness, but even in the face of all the flaws he he see, what he  _ really _ sees - is that flash of flaming hair, a whisper of a 5 o’clock shadow on a strong chin, and eyes as deep and stormy as the Luciden ocean, and a subtle, rugged handsomeness that he  _ cannot _ provide. 

He looks away from the mirror, setting his jaw straight, and taking a deep,  _ deep _ breath -  _ He does not compare to you. He does not compare to you. He does not compare to you. He  _ **_cannot_ ** _ compare to you.  _

Essek looks once more in the mirror.  _ You do more than him. You’re more powerful than him by a long shot. You out-perform him at every step. Your makeup looks stunning.  _

That last takes longer to stick, longer for him to accept it as fact - but he clears his throat, breaks away from the mirror, and looks towards his outfit for the evening.  _ He  _ **_will_ ** _ not compare to you.  _


	9. It's a Piece of Cake to Bake a Pretty Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rise from the dead! I didn't expect to really even write out this scene, and yet, here it is. But I think it's a good exploration of the root causes of a lot of Jester's anxieties and depression, along with being a cute a heartfelt baking episode, so enjoy!

Jester spends the entire afternoon and early evening in a mild state of panic and constant freneticism - it was that morning when she decided that it would be a great idea for her to bake a cake for this dinner party, despite having  _ never _ baked in her entire life. She spent the better part of the morning simply brainstorming, unable to really come up with a decision as to what kind of cake to make - and while Essek’s assertion that he would be happy with whatever she came up with was very sweet, it did not aid her in her indecision. But, after floating her ideas to Caduceus, and coming to the shocking realisation that he had never tasted a raspberry in his one hundred plus years of life, she narrowed her sights on a particular chocolate raspberry cake she once had back home in Nicodranas during one of her few excursions out of the Chateau, determined to recreate that fond memory. 

There was one problem. Apparently, for some very,  _ very _ cruel reason, both chocolate  _ and _ raspberries are extremely hard to find in the Dynasty. And expensive. For something as  _ basic _ in Jester’s life as  _ chocolate - cruel _ , very cruel indeed. But, she’s an expert detective, the best detective in fact, and can find  _ anything _ \- which she does, even for an unreasonable price of 5 gold for the supplies for  _ one _ cake. 

So, pockets slightly lighter, and groceries acquired, she sets everything out on the very small amount of counter space she can spare with all of Cadeucus’s rather intense prep work - and  _ that’s _ when the panic begins to really set in, because she  _ absolutely _ does not know what she’s doing, has  _ no _ recipe whatsoever, but she’s already promised it to Essek, and she’s already spent 5 damn gold on cocoa powder and a  _ very _ small linen pouch of raspberries, and  _ goddammit,  _ she wants that same warm, fuzzy bliss she remembers of years gone by. 

She asks Caduceus for guidance, he very politely though still in a slightly stressed manner tells her that he’s a little too preoccupied to add another thing to his plate (literally). Jester understands, of course she understands - _This was a foolish idea to begin with. Gods,_ _I’m so_ ** _stupid_** _! I don’t even know what I’m doing!_ Fustratedly, Jester can feel her throat tighten and constrict, and tears threaten to prick at her eyes at the thought of just how little oversight she’s done, and how she’s going to disappoint everyone - but she balls her hands into tight fists, swallow her budding tears, and takes a deep breath, and rights herself. 

She leaves her purchases on the counter, and moves to the most central area in the foyer, and calls out to the entire Xhorhaus. “ _ DOES ANYONE HERE KNOW HOW TO BAKE A CAKE??!?”  _

From up above, she hears a very confused Beau shout down to her. “ _ WHAT?”  _

__ _ “I SAID DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO BAKE A CAKE, BEAU!!”  _

__ She can hear footsteps, and one of the doors open from the upper floor. “ _ BAKE A CAKE _ ?” Beau shouts from up above. 

Jester runs halfway up the stairs to be able to actually see her. “ _ YES! _ Can you bake, Beau?” Jester says, looking up at her best friend with hopeful excitement dancing in her eyes at the prospect.

Beau crosses her arms, and looks at Jester confusedly. “Sorry, no. What, is it someone's birthday or something?” 

Jester sighs, and tries to hide her disappointment “No Beau, it’s just - it’s for tonight. Never mind.” Jester turns around, and heads down the stairs, her feet dragging slightly against the purple-tinged wood. 

From the bottom floor in the eastern section of the home housing Caleb’s study, the familiar Zeminian voice calls out in a concerned tone, “ _ Is everything alright? Jester?! I heard shouting!”  _

Jester darts down the rest of the stairs, zipping over to Caleb’s study with a breakneck pace. “ _ Caleb!”  _ Jester almost runs straight into him, just emerging from his study, nearly getting a face full of open-shirted Wizard-chest. 

Caleb grabs a hold of Jester’s forearms, bracing her from impact, confounded at the very rapid sequence of events in the last few seconds, and now properly worried as to just what exactly could be causing this odd behavior. “ _ Jester, _ are you okay? Is everything alright?” He says concernedly, as he leans down slightly, searching her violet eyes for any trace of conflict or sudden strife to explain her erratic behavior. 

Jester rights herself in his grip, and looks up at Caleb with imploring eyes. “I’m okay, everything is great, except for it’s  _ not, _ because I don’t know how to bake a cake!  _ Caleb - _ ” Jester grabs his hands, and looks at him with a deadly serious gaze, “ _ can you teach me how to bake a cake?” _

Caleb’s mind goes blank for a moment, her yelling and soft pleading not computing with her seemingly innocuous request, but -  _ That is rather par for the course, given that this  _ **_is_ ** _ Jester, after all.  _ “ _ Y-yes _ ?” Caleb gives her an odd look, but still a trusting one, and seeing the relief and enthusiasm in her eyes, he’s moved for a moment by just how much they remind him of the violets that used to grow in his Mother’s garden, the same softness and hue giving an almost uncanny resemblance to the flowers of his youth.  _ Focus, Widogast.  _ “Why - why exactly do you need me to teach you how to bake a cake, Jester? 

“Okay okay okay okay - _soooooooo_ we’re having a dinner party and all, ja? With Essek? And it’s just, the _last_ time I was at Essek’s, he bought me pastries, and they were really nice, and were just like the ones from Nicodranas, and so I want to return the favor, ja? Because that’s like, just, common courtesy and stuff, and so, this morning I thought, you know, why don’t I one-up him and make it myself, you know? And so I got to thinking back to the pastries and baked goods I really liked back home, because _apparently_ pastries are hard to make or so I’ve heard, and I got to thinking about this one cake I had when I was a little girl - I remember it because it was the first time I was trusted to go out of the Chateau to run errands for my Mama, but I made an _extra_ stop that I wasn’t supposed to at this Bakery that just smelled so _amazing_ , I just _had_ to go in, you know? But there was this one cake, it looked so _decadent_ from the display case thing-y - it was chocolate, with this thick almost glaze-y-like dark chocolate icing that just _dripped_ down the edges, and then this layer of raspberry, like, _compote_ or something, it wasn’t really jam or jelly, because it wasn’t like _squishy_ or anything like that - anyways, it was then topped with fresh raspberries and lightly dusted with powdered sugar - and it just looked _soooooooo_ beautiful, and _sooooooo_ tasty, I just had to spend my allowance on it. And so I bought a slice, and **_Caleb_** \- It was just _heavenly_! I swear, I tasted the _divine_! It was so chocolate-y, almost like fudge, and so rich and oddly creamy, and it was bitter in all the right ways but so sugary and sweet as well, and the raspberries - _oh man,_ ** _Caleb_** \- they were so bright and ‘zing-y’, and added this layer of tartness, you know, that just was the _perfect_ combination and counterpart, and just...” Jester’s exuberance suddenly takes a shift, as she looks down at the ground, and for a moment her expression seems almost sad, and Caleb can see the subtle cracks in her carefully built up exterior for just a moment, before she smiles a light, reminiscent smile, but _undeniable_ touch of underlying melancholy. “... _it was a very good cake_.” 

Jester’s hands go limp in his, and he can feel his heart breaking for a sadness he doesn’t even quite understand. He squeezes her hands in his, and he feels an urge to pull her into one of the hugs she always loves to give people, but he doesn’t want to scare her off, and so he thinks against it, even though something deep in his gut is telling him to.  _ This is clearly more than a cake.  _ He’s perhaps a little perturbed, or more so…  _ jealous _ even, that she’s baking this cake for Essek’s sake, but he knows deep down that emotion is not  _ helpful _ in this instance -  _ if it’s even helpful at all. _ But regardless - it’s her eyes, those soft, flowery, but  _ forlorn _ eyes - they’re so enchanting, so beguiling - and he knows that he’s do anything to take away that sadness, if it’s even in his power to do, even if it means baking a cake for  _ Essek _ of all people -  _ If it’ll make her happy.  _ “ _ Well  _ \- I cannot say that I have had this cake in  _ particular _ \- but I’d surely like to.” Caleb lightly smiles back to her. 

Jester bites down on her bottom lip slightly with her right fang, and Caleb almost feels his heart leap up into his throat, getting choked up for a moment at just how  _ adorable  _ she looks. She looks back up to Caleb, the sorrow gone - even if just for now. “ _ Okay _ .” Jester takes a moment, and then tugs and Caleb’s hands, and begins leading him to the kitchen. “We better get started then!” 

Caleb lets out a momentary sound of surprise, reminded again just how  _ strong _ Jester is, as he’s pulled like a rag doll through the hall to the kitchen, which is already deeply aromatic with the scents of Cadeucus’s efforts. Inside, Caduceus and Fjord stand next to each other, intently and methodically chopping vegetables, as Fjord lightly hums a sea shanty under his breath as the two go about their work. Jester yanks Caleb towards a very small section of the available counter space, where her various ingredients sit unopened. He assesses them -  _ Flour, baking soda, eggs, butter, cocoa powder, sugar, powdered sugar, and raspberries… yes, that should just about do it, save for just a few extras.  _

He nods his head, and takes a deep breath, attempting to recall the proper measurements needed. “Caduceus?” 

Caduceus turns his head slightly, putting down his knife. “Yes?” 

“Do we happen to have any vegetable oil on hand?” 

Caduceus nods his head, and smiles in his direction. “Always. Fjord, would you mind going to the pantry really quick to bring Mr. Caleb and Miss Jester some vegetable oil?” 

Fjord’s head suddenly perks up from his chopping. “Huh? Oh, yes - sure.” He puts down the knife quickly and heads off to retrieve the item in question. 

Jester looks down at her hands. “I didn’t know you needed that. It’s weird to need  _ vegetables _ in a cake, you know?” Her nose scrunches slightly as she speaks, as she keeps her eyes down low. 

Caleb, sensing her mild insecurity at the subject, looks in her downcast eyes, and his gaze softens. “Yes, I guess it is a little weird. But you did good - just that and a little water and we’ll be good to go, ja?” 

_ You did good _ . Jester’s so used to never believing any sort of praise that comes her way, simply discounting people as sugarcoating the reality of the situation, or merely being too  _ nice _ to her to tell her the truth. So she wants to believe Caleb - she really,  _ really _ wants to believe that she did good, that she  _ does _ good - she looks up, and her dark blue eyes appear so truthful, so honest, and so  _ gentle _ , it almost hurts -  _ because deep down, I don’t really deserve to be looked at like that, don’t I?  _ “ _ Really? _ ” Jester asks him plainly, but still with an emotion through-line and weight connected to it against her own will. 

Caleb nods, and smiles softly. “You did. You do.” 

There is a small silence, as a slight smile comes across Jester’s face, as Fjord returns from the pantry with a long, pale yellow bottle, and places it on the counter in front of Jester and Caleb, before heading back to his station and task at hand. 

“Thank you, Fjord.” Caleb says. 

“Hmmm.” Fjord barely acknowledges him, currently deeply focused on his chopping, not wishing to be interrupted. 

Caleb clears his throat, and turns his head towards Caduceus. “Is there any oven space available?” 

“Oh, yes - roasting at 350 degrees, thereabouts - does that work with what you had in mind?” 

“Perfectly.” Caleb turns back to Jester, and takes a deep breath, clearing his thoughts. “ Right. So - first things first - we need a recipe.” Caleb reaches towards his right book holster, and takes out his journal, along with one of the smaller pots of ink and quills he has on his person. “I should note, it has been quite some years since I was last properly in any sort of kitchen, nonetheless baking, but - you’re lucky I have a very good memory.” And he begins to write down a very basic cake recipe on one of the blank pages. 

“When was the last time you baked, Caleb?” Jester asks with an idle curiosity. 

Caleb pauses his writing for a moment, quickly sifting through his memories for an exact date. “I was thirteen, I believe. It was my Father’s birthday.” 

“Oh, wow - I can’t believe you actually could remember something so specifically - well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You are brilliant and all that, after all.”

Caleb’s cheeks flush slightly, as he resumes his writing. “I remember because it was a very special occasion - my Mother actually went and bought cocoa powder, which was very expensive for us, and a real luxury - so we had a traditional Dwendalian Black Forest Cake. It was a real treat.” He reminisces. 

After finishing his basic recipe, he turns back to Jester. “Right, so - this is all based on my memory, so, there’s a chance this won’t pan out, but - this is to the best of my ability.” 

“ _ Well _ ~ I trust in your ability, Caleb.” 

Caleb tenses us slightly, still not used to any sort of affection or affirmation, and his flush only grows at her kind words. “ _ Right -  _ thank you, Jester.” He smiles softly, his eyes slightly averting hers for a moment, before clearing his throat, and resuming his train of thought. “A-anyways - there’s a few differences here - your description of the cake you had, you said it was almost creamy, fudge-like, yes? So, to me, that indicates a higher fat content, with a greater butter to flour ratio,  _ so _ \- this is going to be  _ very _ rich.” 

“ _ Excellent.”  _ Jester wags her fingers together, delight dancing her eyes at the prospect. 

Caleb can’t help feeling a warm rush spread across his chest at seeing the innocent mirth and glee in her eyes, all at the prospect of baked goods - it’s such a pure joy, such a genuine, simple pleasure - it only endears him more to her. He finds that he could stare at her, just like that, for hours on end, and he would be perfectly contented - but he knows that he has a job to do, a job that will only bring more of that exact same look from her - and so he clears his head, and sets his mind towards the task at hand. “Right, so - first, the oil and the water - ⅓ cup of vegetable oil, and ½ cup water.” 

Jester quickly rustles around the kitchen, finding the glass measuring cup and a large mixing bowl, and dispenses the correct measurement of oil into the larger bowl, then making a few short movements with her graceful fingers, casting Create Food and Water to get the exact measurement of water. She looks at Caleb with a very self satisfied look on her face, pouring the water into the bowl. “Next!” 

Caleb smiles, crossing his arms, not quite expecting her to use that spell, but still impressed at her divine capabilities regardless. “Next, we add the eggs. Would you get a fork and a small bowl out for me please?” Jester complies, quickly grabbing the items from the cabinets and drawers. “Okay, now we add four eggs, and then beat the ingredients together.” 

Jester pauses, her hands once eager, now retracting slightly, growing unsure. “Okay okay okay okay - confession time.” She turns to look at Caleb, who returns her gaze with a concerned but open expression. She looks over her shoulder to the backs of Caduceus and Fjord, and then back to Caleb, motioning with her hand for him to come closer and lean in. 

Behind them, Fjord shoots a questioning glance towards Caduceus, who raises his brows slightly and shrugs, lightly dousing a pan in olive oil and beginning to lay out their prepared vegetables for roasting. 

Caleb leans in closer to Jester, who looks at him very intently, a slight tinge of underlying anxiety still present in her demeanor, which worries him slightly. Her fingers lace together, nervously and repeatedly slotting through together, as her lips purse together, and her eyes divert his gaze for a moment, looking downcast to the eggs on the counter, before snapping back to Caleb. “You have to  _ promise _ me you won’t judge me.” Jester whispers. 

Caleb nods, unsure of the territory he’s about to broach, but still eager to hear her out. “I would never judge you, Jester.” He whispers back.

“ _ Really _ ? Okay, but, like, what if, what if - what if I like, went  _ evil _ or something, or did some really  _ fucked up shit _ and stuff, would you judge me then?” 

Caleb, a little thrown by exactly the direction this conversation is heading, and how just moments ago they were baking a cake, and now he’s being asked to swear fealty against moral judgement, takes a moment to assess his next words as to not reveal  _ too much _ of his true feelings, and deep, unyielding loyalty towards the woman he loves but knows he can’t have, but to still speak from the heart and speak the truth to reassure this sudden wave anxiety within her. “ _ Well _ \- firstly, I find it unlikely that you would ever ‘ _ go evil’ _ or anything like that - and we all, as a group, have collectively done what some would say was some ‘ _ fucked up shit _ ’ - and yet we still had our reasons for doing so, and don’t - or at least,  _ I _ don’t - judge an of us for our past actions. And, I know that even on the slim off chance that you would ever do any ‘ _ fucked up shit _ ’, I know that you would have your reasons for it - you’re a very kind person at heart, Jester, and I don’t think you could ever act in malice without there being a very justifiable reason for doing so. I trust your judgement.” 

Jester smiles softly, herself not quite knowing how to respond to such an affirmation of trust, averting her eyes again as a very soft violet blush dusts her cheekbones. “Thank you, Caleb.” 

There’s a brief pause, as the two sit in the emotions just bared in front of each other. Behind them, Caduceus gives Fjord a soft knowing look, as Fjord raises his brows and tilts his head in response, aiding Caduceus in laying the vegetables in the pan. 

Jester takes a deep breath, and meets Caleb’s eyes once more. “ _ Sooooooo _ \- here’s the thing.  _ Idontknowhowtocrackanegg.”  _

It takes Caleb a moment to process her very rapid shortening on her sentence, but he eventually nods his head in recognition. “ _ Ah. _ ” 

“It’s just, you know - at the Lavish Chateau, it’s like, part inn, part brothel, part theatre/club, part restaurant, you know, as there’s like a whole kitchen staff and shit, so - I never had to make any of my own meals, and  _ soooooooo _ \- I never really learned how to cook. Like, at all. I’ve never cooked before. This is actually my first time, like, even  _ doing _ anything in the kitchen, you know…” Jester’s voice peters off slightly, her eyes retreating once more to the floor. 

Summoning his courage, and knowing that it’s exactly what she would do if faced with a similar situation, Caleb rests his hands on hers, causing her head to tilt back up to look him in the eyes. “We all were raised in different situations. I’m sure that your upbringing has taught you things that I have never in my life attempted - in fact I know it has, given your adeptness for medicine and healing. So, you don’t know how to cook - I don’t know how to paint. I wouldn’t know what to do if given one of your paint brushes at all. I can’t set a bone for my life, meanwhile, you can perform magical stone-shaping reconstructive surgery. You can do many,  _ many _ things Jester - don’t forget that. So, I’ll teach you how to crack an egg. You’ll get it in no time.” 

Fjord looks to Caduceus, making the ‘ _ Awww’ _ face, while Caduceus smirks knowingly, drizzling a light smattering of olive oil across the arranged tray, and trying  _ ever _ so quietly to crack the salt and pepper as to not interrupt or intrude on whatever kind of moment is occurring behind his back.

Slowly but surely, Caleb works Jester through the motions and delicate strength needed to properly crack an egg, with only one egg ruined in the process due to over-enthusiasm on her part, and Jester finds herself aptly suited for whisking and blending together batter, getting to flex her superior arm strength in the process. The batter made and poured into the pan, the cake goes into the oven as they begin to work on the chocolate glaze and raspberry compote. 

There’s a peacefully quiet moment as Jester and Caleb stand over the stove top stirring their respective pots, Caduceus and Fjord retreated to the dining room having momentarily finished with their current tasks to ‘give the two some space’ as Caduceus put to Fjord. Jester finds it oddly soothing, idly stirring her spoon in the thick raspberry goodness, the motions calming, almost like painting in a way, the motions of piloting the spoon similar to that of a paintbrush. 

In the calm, Caleb finds himself still drawn towards looking at Jester, his eyes almost completely unable to stay fixed on his glaze, instead stuck on her soft smile, and the gentle serenity in her eyes, and how beautiful she looks just like this, free of worries, not fretting, a tranquility he rarely ever gets to see her in, but knows that she deserves to be in all the time - and what he would do to allow her to stay just like this, free from the internal demons he knows she has but still won’t open up about, but desperately wants to rid her of -  _ Jester, if you only knew just how much I’d give to see you forever as happy as you are in this moment. _

Deciding to engage her, and hopefully try and learn a little bit more as to the emotional reasoning behind this particular endeavor, he breaks the silence between the two of them. “So, Jester - did you used to have this cake often back home?” 

Jester perks her ears up in his direction, turning her head towards him. “Oh? Ah… not too often, really. But I’d try to visit that bakery when I could. I didn’t quite… I just didn’t leave the Chateau very often.” Jester’s voice becomes a little softer, a little more guarded and apprehensive the further she goes on. 

“Oh?” Caleb responds simply, his tone free of any of the judgement Jester expected. 

“... Yeah, I -” Jester directs her attention back to the compote, a nervous flush rushing to her cheeks. “You know, it’s just - um, for people like Mama, it’s just - it can be seen as a slight against  _ her _ to have…  _ children _ … it’s stupid you know, but people will think that she’s not careful, and that it’s not ‘safe’ to have sex with her if she’s been pregnant with a customer’s child, so… it’s just better for the her and the Chateau for that matter if I just - wasn’t really known about, you know?” 

For a moment, everything crystallizes within Caleb’s mind, everything about her making perfect sense - **_Oh, Jester._** He doesn’t quite know what to say, and so he says nothing. 

“And Mama doesn’t like to leave the Chateau, so if I were to go outside, I had to do it by myself. But she’s working very hard at it, I know she is - she went to that party with us! She never does things like that, and I was so proud of her - I  _ am _ so proud of her, and I love her  _ so _ much, and she loves me  _ so _ much, and I know that - but it did mean that I was a little lonely at times. But I had the Traveler, I had my paints, and I had my romance novels, so, you know, it wasn’t all bad! And I guess, you know, it’s like the Traveler always says, ‘balance’ and all that- I lived in a very fancy hotel, and I had maids, and I was comfortable, never had to cook at all, obviously - but it meant I didn’t get to go outside much, and it meant I was lonely at times, so - you know, it all works out I guess.” Jester takes a moment, and takes a deep breath, before gathering the courage to look Caleb in the eyes once more. “You know, the reason why I liked this cake so much, and the reason why I remember it so deeply - that was the first time I ever actually left the Chateau.” She admits. 

“Sweets have a very deep meaning to you, don’t they?” Caleb observes. 

Jester nods. “You could say that. I mean, beyond the fact that they taste reallyyyyyy good and stuff, ja. On the rare occasion I actually left the Chateau, I would treat myself to a pastry or a slice of cake. It was my own little thing.” 

Caleb smiles softly at her. “Then in that case, I think I need to treat you to more baked goods.” 

Jester’s blush grows, as she shyly diverts her attentions back to her compote. “Ja Ja Ja, I mean, obviously,  _ obviously _ , always…” 

Caleb’s smile widens, seeing her cute blush. “Well then - for now, let’s focus on this treat, ja? Let’s let this compote and glaze cool off a bit. The cake should be done in about 10 minutes.” 

The two let the syrup and compote cool, as they sit down at the small breakfast nook, and simply enjoy each other’s company for a short while. Eventually, the cake is ready to be taken out of the oven, and they briefly let it cool before lathering it in decadent chocolate glaze and a thick layer of raspberry compote, dusting it lightly with powdered sugar, and placing the remaining fresh raspberries around the perimeter. 

Jester surveys their finished product with a salivating glee. “Oh man oh man -  _ Caleb -”  _ Jester briefly turns her attention away from the delectable looking cake to look in Caleb’s eyes and grab his hands, swinging them slightly, “- it looks just like I remember it! I can’t  _ wait _ to try it out!” 

Caleb’s heart almost triples in size at the delight in her eyes, and he finds himself returning her smile. “Well - it’s 6 o’clock now, so - not too far off, ja?” 

At the mention of the current time, Jester gasps, dropping Caleb’s hands. “Shit! Oh man - we need to clean up! Oh, I don’t even know what I’m going to wear! And I need a bath! Fuck!” 

Jester wipes her hands on a nearby rag with haste, before quickly turning to Caleb, and motions slightly to his short beard. “You have a little bit of chocolate glaze in your beard, Caleb.” Caleb puts his hands to his face, trying to feel around for the spot, but missing completely. “No, no - ah, shit, just let me -” Jester reaches out her thumb, and wipes up the chocolate straight from his beard. 

Caleb malfunctions at her touch, his mind going blank for a moment as her finger graces his scruff. It’s over before it even started, it seems, before he could really leaning into her hand, or better yet, hold it there with his own - but he finds himself eagerly,  _ desperately _ wanting more of the  _ rush _ it gives him, and the sparks the pad of her thumb radiates through his whole face at the simplest of touches. 

Jester licks the chocolate off her thumb, seemingly unaware the reaction it entices in Caleb, who gulps at seeing her forked tongue peek out from underneath her plush lips in such an innocent way. Jester’s eyes widen slightly, and an impressed look spreads on her face. “It’s actually really good!” 

Caleb takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “Ja, well - hard work pays off.” 

Jester smiles, and holds his gaze for a moment. “Thank you, Caleb.” She speaks earnestly. 

“Anytime, Jester.” 

The two stare into the others eyes for a protracted period, becoming lost in the other’s gaze, before Jester breaks away, a blush spreading across her face. “Anyways, I should -” 

“Oh yes, I should -”   


“Ja, get cleaned up and all -” 

“Ja, same, same.” 

The two awkwardly leave the kitchen exchanging bashful glances at the other as they make their way to their respective chambers to freshen up for the evening. 

In the formal dining room, Fjord and Caduceus see Caleb and Jester leave the kitchen exchanging longing and bordering flirtatious ganders as they part ways. Fjord looks to Caduceus with a curious expression. “What exactly do you think happened in there?” 

Caduceus hums slightly as he takes a sip of his tea. “Progress.” 


	10. Viva la Codpiece, Long May He Reign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man folks! I rise from the dead! Now that my exams are over, I finally have time to catch up on my writing and actually post. However, I'm making up to you with and extra long and thicc chapter. This chapter gets a little horny, and I simply couldn't help myself when it came to the title as a result. Also, side note: for inspiration as to what the fuck Essek is wearing in this chapter, google 1460's Men's Burgundian Fashion and go wild with your imagination. Many thanks to the real OG James Haeck on DnD Beyond who created the spell in this chapter and the next. Also - you can have a little Beauyasha, as a treat.

As the members of the Mighty Nein sit around the parlor, save for Caduceus making last minute preparations in the kitchen, enjoying each other’s company, there’s a knock on the door. Immediately Jester bolts up from her seat. “ _ Essek!” _ And before anyone can stop her, she darts over to the door itself, eagerly thrusting it open. 

There, standing at the door, stands a  _ very _ well dressed Essek, if not slightly  _ disturbingly _ well dressed - he wears a  _ skin tight _ green wool leggings/hosen type of legwear, although with a very  _ noticeable,  _ very,  _ ah _ … _ prominent  _ codpiece,  _ up at attention _ so-to-speak, only partially covered by a pleated, short black velvet over-gown, at a cheekily short length as to almost allow the codpiece to ‘part’ the skirted pleats in a very revealing yet frustratingly covered up manner, it in and of itself a  _ tease _ \- the sleeves part at the elbow, and then hang down his knees, much like the sleeves of several of Jester’s blouses or dresses, along with his usual deeply ornate and armored broad-shouldered Kyrn chest piece/mantle. Jester’s eyes can’t help but  _ stare _ at this very  _ bold _ display, and she can’t tell if she’s  _ surprised _ that the relatively shy and closed-off Essek would wear such a thing, or if it makes absolute  _ perfect _ sense, playing into his aloof knowledge of his attractiveness. Her eyes are definitely caught staring at  _ one  _ thing in  _ particular _ , and she can’t tell if it’s…  _ eminence _ is pure bravado on his part, or if there’s no exaggeration at all, and her mind goes down a spiral trying to solve the riddle of what exactly Essek’s dick  _ would _ look like, being a connoisseur and expert on the subject and study of penises. 

_ Would he be more a girth-focus man, or is he more length based? Cut or uncut? Does he have that cute little vein down the underside? Oooo, does he have that slight curve that Molly’s did? I mean, they  _ **_are_ ** _ both purple... it was the best dick I’ve ever seen - I wonder… _ There is slight pause in her mental train of thought, as the thought of Molly and the memory of him as his amazing penis evokes a slight melancholy, a wave of unexpected grief that never seems to leave her over his passing washing through her for a moment, and she has to almost shake her head slightly to clear her mind from falling down that rabbit hole. _ Focus, Jester - present moment, present moment - Essek, Essek, Essek - Essek’s dick, Essek’s dick, Essek’s dick -  _ She recovers herself, repeating the grounding mantra to bring her back into the present moment, and bring her attentions back to the  _ deeply _ attractive drow in front of her, and his almost salacious pea _ cocking _ directly in front of her. 

But, that’s not all - Jester has seen men in makeup before, and the sight doesn’t really phase her anymore -  _ but _ , that being said - Jester admires the skill displayed in his application, how it emphasizes his eyes, accentuating the piercing, almost impaling light blue stare, but adding a layer of smoke and haze around the edges - they look so wide, almost doll-like, but there’s an edge of danger in those crystalline depths, a cloud of mystery and intrigue, like he knows some deep, shameful secret about her that even she herself isn’t aware of - and Jester almost can’t look away, until her eyes are caught and ensnared by the wine-dark color of his lips, and how  _ unnervingly _ perfect, defined and  _ sharp _ his cupid’s bow is, and how surprisingly plump they look, and how  _ soft _ and  _ pillowy _ his bottom lip looks -  _ imagine what it would be like to nibble on it _ \- and she has to catch herself from staring at his painted lips for too long, otherwise he’ll  _ know _ \- and there’s a subtle thrill in the idea of him knowing that she’s staring, knowing that she’s intrigued, entranced, and  _ enraptured _ by his  _ concerningly _ attractive and alluring presence - but there’s also another little thrill of the danger of it all, of him catching onto her thoughts, and knowing her innermost passions regarding him, and the fear of rejection and denial - but also the fear of  _ reciprocation _ as well. 

To Essek, being astute and trained in reading and sus-ing out information, secrets, and the inner workings of his subject’s mind, this moment is  _ delicious _ \- it’s pure ambrosia, injected directly into his bloodstream - seeing her wandering eyes, first laying sight on his prominent and purposefully paramount  _ feature _ , and how they widen almost in shock, genuinely surprised at the boldness of it, but how the pupils then almost overtake her lovely lavender eyes, threatening to take over her irises entirely, and how her expression darkens with a coy, small smirk, her thoughts corrupted by his presence - and then, how she  _ rakes _ her gaze up his elegantly attired figure, and how her eyes become first transfixed with his own, which he can’t help but mirror back her same expression, himself captured by her own visage - but finally, how her eyes land on his lips, and  _ linger _ for just a moment too long to be completely innocent in intention, and the palpable sense of wonder dancing in her eyes, wonder at the possibilities of  _ what those lips can do _ \- it’s  _ everything _ he could have wanted from her and more. 

She looks so effortlessly beautiful, standing there in the door frame, in a white linen blouse worn under a simple sleeveless black dress - it’s classic, and almost quaint in a way, and Essek is struck by how  _ cute _ she looks - which is an  _ odd _ thing for him to think, as he’s  _ Essek _ , stone-cold and steely, and he does not find things ‘ _ cute’ _ \- but he can’t help the thought, even despite his personal objections to the term. It’s the shirt though - it’s distinctly Xhorhasian, but in the men’s cut and style - for a moment, he can imagine that it’s  _ his _ shirt, and can imagine a world where Jester Lavorre casually takes his clothing for her own, proudly wearing his garments in mixed settings, and the level of domestic intimacy that such a scenario would imply - but his fantasy comes crashing to the ground when he remembers his conversation with Caleb just yesterday, and he can feel the tugs of jealousy begin to pull deep within him. 

_ “Wow.”  _ Jester says almost under her breath after a lengthy moment of taking in the sight in front of her. 

“Hello, Jester.” Essek simply smirks back at her, a deeply self-satisfied look in his eyes. “You look very pretty this evening.” He speaks honestly, but with confidence. 

Jester blushes slightly, her hands fiddling with her skirts. “Ja, um - you too.” Jester has a slight moment of panic, as she can’t tell if that’s a compliment he would even  _ like - Men can be pretty! Essek’s very pretty, he’s a ‘pretty boy’ - surely he’s okay with that? Surely he’s aware? Gods, did I just insult him?  _

__ Essek’s smirk merely widens in response. “Might I come in?” 

Jester stares at him with her same in-awe expression for a moment, before collecting herself and looking towards her feet nervously, opening the door wider for him and stepping aside. “Ja, ja, sure, please, come in.” 

Essek crosses the threshold of the Xhorhaus, entering the foyer, to be greeted by the rest of the Nein. Beau stares at him with a cautious skepticism, looking slightly put off by his presence, while Yasha gives him a once over and then pointedly looks away from him bashfully. Fjord looks almost  _ simmering _ , something in his eyes reading of an uncomfortable frustration, notedly seeming to focus intently on Essek’s  _ package _ . Veth and Caduceus appear oblivious to his display, if not just unaffected by it, but Caleb -  _ Oh, Mr. Widogast himself  _ \- Caleb looks Essek over, and for a moment, he could  _ swear _ there was just the subtlest look of not-so-innocent interest buried deep within his oceanic eyes, and Essek finds his satisfaction doubled in full at the notion, and at the prospect of ensnaring the Wizard from a two-front assault - but then, like the crashing and subsiding of a wave, the interest retract, replaced by a simmering gaze of barely restrained  _ contempt _ . 

Essek holds that gaze, forcing Caleb to make and maintain eye contact with him, or else look away in cowardice - but, Caleb doesn’t shirk away, despite his gut reaction urging him to do so - he sets his jaw, and swallows his anxiety, and simply  _ glares _ back at him. He’s conflicted, deeply,  _ always _ conflicted when it comes to this man, and how much he  _ wants _ to like him, to trust him, and to learn with and from him, but also by his undeniable  _ charisma  _ that seems to just  _ eat _ away at him, gnawing its way through his defenses, making it so difficult to keep his head on straight every time he dares look in his direction. Even now, as he stares deep into the frigid, pale depths of Essek’s eyes, he can feel his mind becoming ever so hazy, almost as if his very person has some sort of unnatural affecting presence, and he’s briefly reminded of the strange, dizzying mental fog of the Dungeon of Penance, and wonders if Essek’s cast some sort of spell on him - but he takes a deep breath, and shakes his head slightly, severing his gaze from the handsome Drow, and attempts to clear his thoughts by memorizing the wood grain of the floor. 

“Hello, everyone.” Essek breaks the mildly strained silence. Essek holds up his right hand, holding a wine bottle seemingly unnoticed by anyone up to this point. “I heard there was cake, so I brought a dessert wine. I hope that suits everyone’s taste?” Essek turns to look towards Jester expectantly. 

Beau looks at Essek with a discerning glare. “You heard there was cake?” 

Essek gives a terse, but polite smile. “Yes, Beauregard - I was graciously informed by Jester - even asked for my opinion as to the flavor.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Caleb tense slightly, which pleases him. 

“Ja, Ja -  _ Oh, Essek _ -” Jester cuts through the tension in the room, pure, unadulterated delight dancing in her eyes, to which he can’t help but smile a little at, “you’re gonna be _ sooooooo _ impressed. It’s  _ really _ good. I’m a true  _ culinary artist _ !” 

“Are you now?” Essek responds coyly. 

“Ja, ja, totally - of course, I had Caleb’s help - he’s a really good teacher, you know.” 

Essek does his best to tame the jealousy that rises within him at the mention of Caleb teaching her, a domain he finds himself feeling mildly  _ possessive _ of in regards to her, even despite his better judgement. “Well - I look forward to being able to partake in the fruit of your labor, then.”

Caduceus clears his throat slightly, and perks his head up . “Speaking of, actually - dinner is ready whenever we are.” 

“To the foooooooood!” Jester raises her fist up triumphantly, and eagerly darts her way to the dining room. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Dinner is served family style, as it always is in the Xhorhaus, which is something Essek is still not fully accustomed to, being used to much more formal and aristocratic dining styles where no one ever has to move a muscle to obtain any food, with everything served automatically by practically faceless servants - but it’s charming, more intimate, and feels more cohesive almost, and provides ample opportunity for his hand to just  _ ever _ so slightly graze Jester’s as she passes him the potatoes, and to feel her soft skin against his, even if just for a fraction of a second - and to watch her blush faintly in response, her eyes averting his in favor for staring at her hand - so Essek definitely likes this way much better.

The dinner starts out rather stilted, no one really speaking much besides the errant asking for and passing of the various dishes. Feeling a little responsible for the current awkward and tense environment, Essek decides to break the relative silence. “Caduceus, you have really outdone yourself - dinner is absolutely delicious.” Essek comments politely. 

“Oh, well thank you - that’s very nice of you.” Caduceus smiles warmly back at him, in his typically slightly dopey but still disarmingly heartwarming way. “I had some help from Mr. Fjord, and of course the vegetables were grown here in our rooftop garden with the aid of Miss Jester here.” 

Essek pauses, and cocks his head towards Jester sitting on his left, genuinely a little surprised. “Jester, I didn’t know you gardened?”

Jester shrugs nonchalantly. “Ja, I mean - I didn’t originally, and never thought that I’d like it, but when Caduceus started building the garden here, he and I enchanted all these little lights with mini-daylight spells, and in the process of just setting it all up and all, he began to teach me the basics. I didn’t think I’d like it originally, cause the dirt just gets  _ everywhere _ , but it’s actually rather peaceful you know, to just be up there with all the pretty lights, and growing living things with your own two hands. It’s kind of amazing when you think about it, in its own way.” 

“It was you who enchanted those lights?” Essek’s mind as usual bypasses all other information when it comes to the talk of magic. 

“Well, I mean, Caduceus and I both worked on it - and it took  _ forever _ , just hours and  _ hours _ of nothing but focusing on ‘imbuing’ my magic into these little jars - enchanting is  _ really _ tedious, you know.” 

Essek smiles slightly, commiserating. “Yes, that it definitely can be.” 

From across the table, Beau looks at him sternly, but with a subtle glint of interest in her eyes. “You ever enchant anything, Essek?” She questions gruffly, her tone as such that it could be easily misconstrued as confrontational if Essek wasn’t used to the prickly social graces of the monk in question.

“Yes, I have. Many things.” 

Jester’s eyes light up, as she clasps her hands together in excitement. “Ooo-oo-oo! What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever enchanted?”

Essek smirks into his wine glass, feeling a little smug that Jester would be excited over his own magical achievements, but also endeared by it at the same time. “Hmmmm… I suppose that would depend on what you would consider to be  _ ‘cool’ _ . I’ve enchanted many  _ useful _ things, like inkwells that never empty, dishware that never needs cleaning, or goblets that can create water or wine, but I don’t necessarily know if those qualify as ‘ _ cool _ ’.” 

“Well, I mean, like - really unique and powerful, I guess.” Jester shrugs. 

_ Like you _ . The words are just on the tip of his tongue, and he almost says it, and might have were it just the two of them, but he remembers the company in front of him, and stops himself short. “Well - I suppose to those not technically native to the Dynasty, my mantle piece is definitely…  _ unique.”  _ Essek gestures towards his neck, and the chitinous armor adorning his shoulders. 

“Ooooooo - what does it do?” 

“Well,” Essek starts, “while it’s technically not ‘armor’ in the traditional sense, being more ornamental in design, it still does offer some abjurous protection, but that’s a relatively standard enchantment, and not what’s special about it - traditional warrior armor in the dynasty is enchanted to, when a command is spoken, create small airways through which a cacophonous ‘buzzing’ sound can emit - the full effect can actually be quite intimidating and confusing in the heat of battle, which is why it’s so effective. While I myself don’t quite find myself on the front lines, I decided that I still didn’t want to be…  _ left out,  _ I suppose.” 

“Wowwww....” Jester says slightly in awe, inspecting the armor, the tips of her fingers reaching out to touch the dramatically flared metal points. “Can you do it? Like now?” She asks intrigued. 

Fjord clears his throat slightly, shaking his head a little and interjects “Jester, I -” 

Essek cuts him off, “Unfortunately, I believe that your neighbors would not take too kindly to it. That, and I don’t quite want to frighten all of you.” 

“ _ Oh _ , you can’t scare  _ me _ , Essek.” Jester says playfully. 

“No, I doubt there is much that can shake you, Jester.” Essek gives her a reassuring look, before shooting Caleb an errant side eye. “ _ Others,  _ however…” 

Caleb’s eye twitches slightly at his insinuation. “Yes, I first learned of such armor in that book  _ you _ gave _ me _ , Jester.” Caleb addresses Jester, but looks at Essek the entire time, his gaze bordering on glare-like territory. 

“Oh, that smut book we got in Zadash?” Jester responds casually, as if she is unaware or simply doesn’t care about bringing up porn at the dinner table. 

Caleb tenses for a moment, deeply aware of Essek sitting directly across from him, and his callously mirthful gaze seeming to almost pierce directly through him, equal parts amused and cruelly goading, and he can feel just a hint of sweat begin to bead under his collar. Essek quirks a curious brow in his direction, and Caleb suddenly feels  _ very _ put on the spot. “Ah, yes, that would be the one.” Caleb turns his attention towards the food on his plate, trying to avoid eye contact with Essek at all costs in this moment. 

Essek turns to Jester, an intrigued, lazy smile gracing his features. “Now you’ve piqued my interest - a smut book from the empire detailing the specifics of traditional Kyrn armor?” 

“Ja, ja - so, it was this historical romance, which I’m always a little bit of a sucker for, you know - so, it takes place in the Julous Dominion, which like, obviously doesn’t exist anymore, and it all starts with this badass Kyrn assassin sneaking past enemy lines to try and murder this General named Theo, and that’s when we got the description of the armor, you know, but so anyways - this assassin tries to murder Theo, but gets caught, and the helm is tossed from their shoulders, and  _ plot twist! _ They’re actually like this stunningly beautiful woman, which like, isn’t  _ really _ too much of a plot twist you know, because pretty girls can also be badasses, obviously - but anyways, so Theo and this assassin fall in love, and it’s all like - ‘oh my gosh, we cannot be together, but I love you!’ - and all that stuff, the whole star crossed lovers routine, which is  _ soooooo _ overdone but still  _ soooooo  _ effective, and gets me every damn time! But always, like have, like,  _ all _ the sex, and bone for basically the entire second part of the book, but then, in the third act, they go into the Empire, and they’re discovered, and the woman is captured, put on trial, and executed, and it’s  _ suuuuuper _ heartbreaking and ends on a total downer you know - but I bought it for Caleb for all of the historical stuff you know, for the educational parts and all, and because it was a banned book in the Empire, and I just thought it was cool to have an illegal book, but in all actuality, it turned out to be  _ really _ racist in hindsight, though we obviously didn’t really know at the time, because all of us were rather uneducated about the Xhorhaus and the Dynasty especially just in general, so that kind of sours the whole reading experience. But, I do have to say - if they only stuck to the smut part - I would have no objections to that.” 

Essek does his best to absorb all of her rapid paced informational-spiel, at parts zoning out slightly to the exact words she’s saying and and instead fixating on how utterly adorable she looks when she’s animated and passionate, and how her eyes seem to positively alight at the prospect of a good romance - and Essek can’t help but smile softly at her, even despite the more unsavory aspects of the book itself. “Well - I can’t say I’m surprised that Empire literature would contain racial  _ slights  _ against my people - but, I’m glad the smut was good at least.” 

At this, Beau smirks at Essek, and crosses her arms. “Do you know good smut, Essek?” 

Essek nearly chokes on his wine, his confident facade cracking for a moment at Beau’s digging imputation. He nervously shoots a glance towards Jester, who looks up at him expectantly, resting her head in her hands, a morbidly curious and devilish smirk on her plush blueberry lips. He places his wine down on the table and takes a deep, calming breath, before looking back at the overly inquisitive monk. “You ask such interesting questions for the dinner table, Beau.” Essek counters. 

Beau shrugs in response, and stares back at him, assessing and sussing him out with her eyes like she would with her fists. “Just trying to build trust, here. That’s kind of been broken here. Just trying to mend that bridge - just trying to figure you out, Thelyss, without the facade of lies you put up the first time.” 

There’s a tense, pregnant pause that overtakes the table. Essek restrains himself from balling his fists, relying on his training to mask his true emotions at Beau’s words - anger, frustration, but deep, buried within his steely core,  _ heartbreak _ , because it was his own actions that prompted all of this, that made her distrust him so -  _ rightfully so  _ \- and he thinks of Jester, and he  _ worries _ , worries that she doesn’t trust him, that she can  _ no longer _ trust him, that all of them can no longer trust him - and, as much as he hates to admit it to himself, frustration at the fact that Caleb and his relationship has deteriorated to the point of veiled threats and dagger-like glares across the dinner table - but he buries it, buries his emotions like he always does, and squares his shoulders. “Well,  _ Beau _ , in the sake of honesty, I don’t have much of a need for smut.” Essek can’t help but shoot an errant look towards Jester, a knowing and heady simper spreading across his face. “I have much better methods of satisfying my needs.” 

Jester blushes  _ furiously _ at the implications of Essek’s innuendo, and at his  _ hungry _ eyes boring through hers - and, oddly, she feels a slight tug of…  _ jealousy? Am I jealous?  _ **_Really_ ** _? _ She looks down at her lap, the eye contact becoming  _ overwhelming _ to her.  _ Essek can do as he wants. I certainly don’t ‘own’ him. He can fuck who he wants. Obviously.  _ But she can’t help but clutch at the fabric of her skirts, her blush intensifying.  _ But wouldn’t it - wouldn’t it be so  _ **_good_ ** _ if he were to ‘satisfy his needs’ with me?  _ Blood now begins to rush  _ elsewhere _ as Jester dwells on that thought -  _ He’s hot, yes - he’s attractive. That’s it. And he knows it, and he’s a flirt about it - he doesn’t mean any of it. You’re looking too far into things. He’s just attractive, that’s it. There’s nothing more. He doesn’t - he doesn’t  _ **_think_ ** _ of you like that. _ And now, a wave of sadness crashes over Jester as she talks herself down, and her face falls slightly. 

Both Essek and Caleb notice this change in her expression and overall demeanor. There’s a mind moment of internal panic for Essek, worrying that he’s somehow hurt her, or went too far and accidentally brushed against a sore spot for her, and he wants to reach out to her, and ask her what’s wrong, reassure her that he didn’t mean to hurt her, and  _ oddly _ , and uncharacteristically for himself, he wants to  _ apologize _ to her -  _ It feels like I’ve wanted to apologize for things more in the past month than I have in  _ **_decades_ ** . 

Caleb similarly yearns to pull her aside, check in with her, and give her all the reassurance in the world for whatever seems to be bothering her - and then his gaze settles on Essek, and his eyes narrow, and he feels that familiar pent up frustration directed at the annoying handsome Drow, for him to just walk in here so brazenly, and toy with Jester so openly in front of them all, and for him to cause that downtrodden, mournful look in her eyes which almost seems to inflict her own pain onto him. 

Beau, seemingly unfazed and unfocused on the reactions of the periphery around her, leans back in her chair, and shrugs once more. “ _ Fair _ . I just read whatever Jess lends me. But I suppose I also have my own better methods.” She places her hand over Yasha’s, who herself blushes, smiling sweetly and returning the gentle caress. 

Noticing the finished plates in front of him, Caduceus pivots the topic of conversation entirely. “Cake, anyone?” 

From her introspective state, Jester’s head perks up from her lap, a smile now on her face. “Always!”

Cake is served, with Jester nearly salivating as her work is brought to the table. As the slice is put in front of her by Caduceus, her smile grows warm, and her eyes soft but slightly distant - it’s not lost on Caleb, as he can see the exact moment her mind is transported backwards in time to happy memories - he can’t help but smile at how pleased she looks, but he can’t help but notice the slightest look of melancholy in her eyes at the memory the cake in front of her evokes, and he feels a tug on his own heartstrings for her. 

Jester taps her fork on her plate slightly, almost hesitant to dig in and ruin the perfect portrait in front of her. “It looks just like I remember it.” There’s a subtle restraint in her tone, deeply unlike her usual demeanor, but not unknown to those who had the chance to see her in her more quiet, vulnerable state. 

Essek looks her way, slightly confused at this reaction at what he sees as a simple piece of cake -  _ She’s always hankering those around her for baked goods - is there really more here than a simple sweet tooth?  _

Jester takes a deep breath, and digs her fork into the piece in front of her, making sure to scoop up some of the raspberry compote, and takes a bite -  _ It’s just like that time magic Essek was talking about! It’s like I’m five again - who needs time travel when you have cake instead! _ Jester beams widely, and turns towards Caleb. “Oh, Caleb - it’s like I’m back in Nicodranas running errands all over again! Thank you for teaching me to bake!” 

Caleb smiles sheepishly, both a little flustered at her genuine joy and thanks in front of the entire table, but also secretly relishing it being in front of Essek -  _ You’re not the only teacher in her life, Thelyss. _ But then he feels a little foolish in his sudden spiteful possessiveness in what should be a purely wholesome moment between him and Jester -  _ Essek has  _ **_nothing_ ** _ to do with this.  _ “You’re a quick learner, Jester. And I’m always happy to bring you home whenever you need.” 

“Really?” Jester says softly, blushing slightly. Caleb simply nods, and she takes another bite of her cake. “Good - because you know, I’ve been meaning to go back, just for a small visit. I haven’t seen Mama since we departed for the peace talks.” Then, suddenly, Jester’s eyes go wide with inspiration, and she turns sharply to look at Essek. “Oh, Essek - you should come with us! You probably didn’t really get to even experience the city - plus, you never really got to properly meet my Mama! Oh man, you’ll  _ love _ her - I just know you will! It’s going to be so much fun!”

Essek looks slightly taken aback by her unexpected outburst, but his surprise is quickly replaced with a genuine smile. “I’d like that, Jester.” 

Caleb, feeling a slight panic at the prospect of  _ Essek _ accompanying Jester to her hometown, to meet her  _ Mother,  _ promptly interjects. “Oh, but Nicodranas is such a sunny place, won’t that be deeply uncomfortable for you, Essek?”   


Essek turns his attention towards the impetuous human across the table, and narrows his eyes slightly. “Oh, but not when I have such a lovely parasol made for me by my  _ dear _ friend here - besides, any discomfort I may face in the light of the sun, I would gladly bear if it’s important to Jester.” Essek turns back to look reassuringly at Jester, who beams at him gladly. But, he can’t help himself against shooting Caleb a quick goading glare out of the corner of his eyes. 

Beau, who has been  _ keenly _ observing the three of them this  _ entire _ night, keeps darting her eyes between the trio - Essek’s flirtatious bravado directed towards Jester, and lording over Caleb - Caleb’s mounting frustration, coupled with his own subtle retaliation, and then barely restrained longing glances towards Jester - Jester’s sweet smiles towards the  _ both  _ of them, and her accompanying violet blushes -  _ What the  _ **_hell_ ** _ is going  _ **_on_ ** _ with these three?  _

Jester claps her hands together decidedly. “Then that settles it! I’m glad, you know - I secretly worried a little that you didn’t like the parasol, because it’s so - well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear pink, is all.” 

“Oh, darling, I’ll wear just about anything and look good doing it.” Essek boasts confidently, a knowing,  _ wicked _ grin on his face. Jester’s blush only intensifies at his pet name, as she turns gaze back to her plate, suddenly unable to make and maintain eye contact with the handsome Drow. From beneath the table, Caleb balls his fists in the fabric of his trousers. 

Beau’s alarm bells are simply  _ screaming _ in her head, not quite wanting to believe the unfolding sights in front of her, and the thought of  _ Essek _ being  _ interested _ in Jester like he  _ seems _ to be portraying, with Caleb appearing to be rearing right on his heels in affection - it’s  _ throwing _ her, it’s all  _ throwing _ her so deeply, but it’s also just so  _ juicy _ and dramatic, that she can’t help but gawk at the mounting drama so brazenly on display in front of her and the rest of the dinner table. 

Finishing her cake, Jester places her fork down, and looks out across the dinner table with a plotting and mischievous look. “ _ Sooooooooo _ , now that we’re all done with our food and all -” The attention of the table turns towards her, and she rubs her palms against each other, “how about we all play a game, hm?” 

Yasha cocks a curious brow towards her. “What kind of… game?” 

“Okay okay okay - so, we all know that I’m a very talented spellcaster, right, like, that much is a given, so - I’ve been working with the Traveler on creating my own spell!” 

Essek cradles his chin in his palm, intrigued. “Your own spell, you say?”

Jester grins exuberantly towards Essek. “Ja ja ja!” She then turns back to the rest of the table, taking a deep breath to try and temper the mounting over-enthusiasm slowly overtaking her train of thought at the prospect of unveiling her new creation to her friends. “ _ Sooooooo -  _ it’s kind of a modification on an existing spell, I guess - but! But! It’s still a new spell, and it’s my own creation, so it’s still original okay - anyways,  _ soooooooo _ \- it’s called  _ Lavorre’s Zone of Truth or Dare! _ ” She waves her hands in a jazz-hand like gesture. 

Caleb gives a soft smile at her bubbly and excited antics, her exuberance almost infectious to him. “That certainly sounds interesting - why don’t you explain the mechanics of it?”

“Right, okay, so - essentially, it works just like Zone of Truth, where the spell ‘compels’ you to speak the truth, but obviously you can still be as vague as you want, or simply not answer at all , but you know, silence is even more of an admission of guilt - but,  _ but _ , the spell essentially works within the parameters of truth or dare, allowing the affected people to choose a dare instead, which essentially works as the Command spell, allowing for simple commands - so, it’s like two spell in one!” 

There is a pause as the table considers the prospect, before Essek breaks the silence. “It’s actually rather ingenious, when you think about it - very situational, but still intriguing.” He takes a large sip of his wine, finishing the remainder of the contents in his goblet, giving himself just a little more liquid courage for whatever hi-jinks will surely ensue. “I’m definitely interested.”

A warm flush spreads across her chest as he looks her dead in the eyes, this powerful spellcaster recognizing her accomplishment, and she feels reassured and emboldened by his words. “Yay!” She claps her hands together once more, turning her attention to the rest of the table. “So - are you all in? Because  _ technically _ you could resist the effect, which would be no fun at all, and also  _ I’d know _ , and you’d be a ditty rotten cheater - so, I need everyone’s full cooperation.” 

Caleb nods his head in agreement. “I trust you, Jester.” 

That reassured feeling within her only grows and intensifies, and she almost feels slightly overwhelmed at the positive attention being thrown her way by Caleb and Essek tonight - it feels unnatural almost, to be confronted with so much  _ belief _ and  _ trust _ thrown her way, nonetheless all in one sitting, and she almost doesn’t know what to do with herself - so she just stays there, looking in Caleb’s eyes for a moment too long, trying to compute just how powerful those four little words are, before taking a deep breath and attempting to clear her thoughts. “Yes, so - anyways - um - should we go to the parlor maybe? The War Room? Hot Tub? Oh, no - the Happy Room!” 

Essek looks to Jester with a curious mirth dancing in his eyes. “Might I inquire what is the purpose of this… Happy Room?” 

Jester turns towards Essek once more. “Oh, you know - to be happy and stuff.” 

Essek nods slightly, his grin widening, albeit slightly hesitantly. “ _ Right _ \- well, it seems my curiosity only grows with every passing moment.” He motions to stand up from the table, and extends his hand towards Jester. “Shall we ‘ _ be happy and stuff _ ’?” 

Jester looks a little taken aback at the offer of his hand, more so surprised, as she can’t remember a time when a man offered to help her up from a table before, and she’s a little skeptical towards his extended well-manicured hand, unsure exactly as to his intentions behind his offer, and also as towards the real practicalities of a such an offer, as she’s more than able to stand up by herself - but she thinks back to when he taught her that spell, and how soft his hands were, unmarked and hardened by battle like her own, and the pure  _ rush _ touching his skin gave her, and the warmth it radiated all throughout her body - and so she takes his hand in hers, seeking that high once more. His hand is as soft as she remembered it, his fingers long and lithe as they wrap around her own, and she can feel that same warmth spread through her, all stemming from where their skin meets skin - it feels almost like her blood is buzzing within her as he smirks at her with a frustratingly handsome and slightly roguish expression. For a moment, time almost seems to slow, and she almost forgets the rest of the world behind her, all of her attention focused solely on his touch, and the magnetism it lends. “Ja… ja, sure - let’s go…” She responds, slightly dazed. Once she’s up from her chair, Essek drops his hand holding hers, and she instantly mourns the lack of skin to skin contact, and finds her hand chasing his for a moment, craving that same feeling. But - the moment is done, and the moment is gone - and so she does her best to restrain this confusing  _ longing _ she now feels, and leads the way up to the happy room. 

The rest of the Nein, having witnessed all of this odd exchange, look amongst themselves with their own mild confusion, before slowly heading up behind the two. 

As they head up, Beau pulls Yasha aside slightly, trailing behind the rest of their party members. She grabs Yasha’s hand, and looks her warily in the eyes. “You saw all of that, right?”   


Yasha looks at her, a little confused as to exactly what Beau means. “I mean - yes.” 

“And you - you think that it’s all a little -  _ weird _ , right? Whatever the fuck is going on between Jester, Essek, and Caleb? Like - it’s definitely,  _ weird _ , you know? Just - the energy going on there?” 

Yasha takes a deep breath, and nods reservedly. “I would agree with you there.” 

“There’s something going on there. The tension, the sexual  _ tension _ there -”

“Do you think they’re… do you think they’re all, like…”

“Fucking?” 

Yasha’s eyes pointedly dive straight to the floor, a little put off by her partner’s bluntness. “Well, I wouldn’t really say - I mean, who knows, maybe - but, I think more that it’s - that it’s the fact they’re  _ not _ fucking that causing all of that…  _ tension _ …” 

“Yeah - yeah, that might be it. That’s actually really astute of you, Yash.” 

Yasha blushes slightly at her praise. “Well, you know - it takes one to know one, I guess.” 

Beau can’t help but smile slightly at the color in her cheeks. “Yeah, I suppose so.” Beau brushes her thumb across Yasha’s knuckles. “But, you know - I do worry.” 

“Worry?” 

Beau pulls Yasha even further away from the rest of the group, settling in a small alcove for a moment. “It’s just - you know - it’s  _ Essek _ . Were it just Caleb and Jester, I don’t think I’d have any qualms about it - but I just - I just  _ don’t trust Essek _ . I don’t. And this weird - triumvirate or  _ whatever _ they have going on, this strange love triangle - I worry. I just don’t trust Jester in Essek’s hands. At all.” 

Yasha takes a moment to process Beau’s confession, and places her other hand against Beau’s. “Well - you know - I do think you bring up a valid point - I confess, I do share your concerns - but, Jester is her own woman. She can hold her own. She’s an adult - she can do what she wants, and  _ who _ she wants - and we may not like it, and may have our own reservations for it - but, you know, she gets to make her own choices, and we just have to be here to support her. And who knows, maybe they just have weird sexual tension, and that’s all it’ll ever be - maybe some truths can be shed in this game Jester’s made for us, and maybe we can all learn things about one another, and perhaps even regain some trust.” 

Beau pauses, her gaze dropping to where her and Yasha’s hands lay intertwined, and takes a deep breath, before looking back to Yasha’s beautiful heterochromatic eyes. “You’re right.” She says simply. Beau pulls back from their alcove, and gives Yasha’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s see whatever the hell this ends up being.” 


	11. Truths Spilled, Dares Dealt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hai. It's been a while! I apologize for the lack of updates, this chapter has taken *forever* combined with life hitting fast and hard, and getting int he way. But, here's a heckin chonker of a chapter for you guys! And trust me, this chapter was suppose to be *much* larger, and it's already around 40 pages lol. Also - folks, with this chapter, we've broken 100 pages! And to think, this all started as a single oneshot - and now it's just spiraled out of control. Thank you all for your support for this fic, really, it brings me so much joy to know that people actually like my writing, and like this absolute rarepair crackship. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. And, enjoy the show!

Essek doesn’t quite know exactly what he expected of a place called ‘The Happy Room’ - partially, because he couldn’t quite conceive what exactly makes a _room_ happy - but whatever he had previously imagined, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by his findings. The room is simple, with yellow walls, strings of similarly enchanted (thought not as bright) little jars of light line the walls, some tapestry hangings decorating the space, and large, plush rugs strewn about all over the floor. What is truly odd about the rooms is the seating arrangement, which appears to be made up solely of oversized _sacks_ of some kind, consisting of varying soft piled fabrics and furs - he’s never quite seen _chairs_ like these, if these can qualify as _chairs_ at all - but Jester walks up to large sacks and flops down comfortably into it, her body sinking into its depths, her legs kicking out as she kneads it’s pudgy softness with her fingers. 

Essek looks a little perplexed, is not suspicious of these ‘chairs’ - _They seem… deeply inelegant._ The rest of the Nein all filter in one by one, each claiming a ‘chair’ for themselves, as Essek trepidatiously moves towards the empty spot towards Jester’s right. He doesn’t sit down, merely eyeing the chair in front of him with some hesitant doubt. Jester cocks her head to the side, and shoots him a slightly perplexed look. “What’s wrong, Essek?” 

Beau, deeply sunken into her own fuzzy bag, chuckles slightly. “You never seen a beanbag before?” 

Essek prods the bag with one of his elegant fingers, allowing it to test the waters so to speak, pleased enough with its softness and squishiness, able to feel the individual filled beans that comprise the chair itself. “As a children’s toy, perhaps, but as furniture - no.” 

Caleb saunters over to the other bag on the left side of Jester, and plops down in the same fashion as her, before turning his head to face Essek, and quirking a challenging brow towards him. 

Essek himself gives a half-chuckle at his fellow wizard’s wayward attempt at intimidation, and straightens his spine, before artfully taking his seat before him - as _artfully_ as one ever _could_ sink into a beanbag. Jester can’t help but giggle slightly at his display, so deeply contrasted by the actual furniture and surroundings themselves. 

Jester claps her hands together, and looks out towards the group in front of her. “Okay okay okay - so, I’m going to cast the spell in a moment, but I thought that, you know, just as a sign of good faith you know, while it’s not written into the spell, to make everyone more comfortable and to not allow myself _toooooo_ much power - when I ask all of you Truth or Dare, you know, I’d let you guys do the same with me, yeah? Like, if you choose Truth, you know, _I_ do a Truth, and if _you_ choose Dare, then _I_ do a Dare _-_ does that sound good with you guys?” 

There’s a brief pause as everyone in the room considers the notion for a moment. Caduceus is the first to break the silence, nodding slightly. “That sounds perfectly reasonable to me.” 

Yasha pipes up, “That actually makes me a little more - you know, I guess ‘comfortable’ is the right word.” She looks up at Jester sheepishly. 

Jester smiles softly in her direction. “Oh, I’m glad, Yasha - but please, always let me know what I can do to make you comfortable, okay? Pretty please? I never want to - I never want to make you uncomfortable. I know that with Obann - you know we don’t even have to do it, we can just stop right here and it’s fine, okay? I really don’t want to - _trigger_ anything -” 

Yasha puts her hands up, leaning forward in her beanbag, seeking to quell the onslaught of anxious caution pouring out from Jester at the moment. “No, it’s alright, Jester - you know, I appreciate it, I really do - it’s nice that you’re looking out for me, really I -” Yasha looks slightly hesitant herself, and perhaps a little overwhelmed, and her eyes meet Essek’s, and Essek can see the look of assessment in them, of her assessing him, trying to balance her next words in relation to her sense of comfort and trust regarding him and his presence, “I - in the sake of... _honesty_ , and ‘Truths’, I suppose, I confess - I’m -” Yasha catches herself, the words on the tip of her tongue, but finding herself unwilling to will them into existence. Beau gently moves to hold her hand, leaning up from her sunken position within her beanbag, and gives Yasha a soft look of deep understanding and empathy. Yasha takes a deep breath, looks back at Beau, and squeezes her hand tightly, before looking back to Jester. “Mind controlling or altering magic - even, you know, harmless and probably fun ones like your spell - it just… it kind of… it brings back bad memories.” 

Jester gets up from her seat, and makes her way to Yasha, sitting in front of her, and taking her spare hand in her own. “ _Yasha_ ,” She says softly, “I’m really sorry - I didn’t even think about that. And I never want to do anything that would cause you any pain, Yasha. How about - how about, you know, okay okay okay - so, the spell is an area of effect one, so as long as you’re more than 15 feet away from me, technically you won’t be affected. So, we just need to move your bag a little bit farther, and we’ll be all good, ja?”

Yasha looks up at Jester, and despite her previous anxiety, she finds herself smiling softly and the bubbly and endearing Tiefling in front of her, working with her to find a solution and to make her most comfortable. “Thank you, Jester.” 

Jester squeezes Yasha’s hand. “No, Yasha - thank you for being honest with me.” Jester turns around to the rest of the party in front of. “And that goes for all of you guys as well - really, this is meant to be fun, but I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or cross any boundaries I shouldn’t cross. So I need everyone to be honest with me as to what they’re comfortable with and what they’re not, because I would feel absolutely _horrible_ if I were to do something that would make any of you uncomfortable like that. So - _actuallyyyy_ -” Jester moves back to her original bean bag while Yasha moves hers backwards and right up to the wall, “Why don’t go all in a circle and state our hard-no’s, ja? I’ll start!” 

Jester puts her hands in her lap, and lets out a soft exhale as she sets her shoulders straight and confidently. “Okay - well, firstly, this is not a hard-no, _obviously,_ but - I’m not going to dare any of you to, like, _make out_ or any sexy things, because obviously if those things are done under magical _coercion_ then that’s not hot, that’s creepy, and gross - so just a parameter I’m setting here, okay?”

Essek can’t help but feel _slightly_ disheartened at this rule, even though logically he understands exactly _why_ \- but his mind is stuck deeply on the idea of how good it would feel to capture her lips in his own, right here, in front of _all_ of them, but especially in front of Caleb, and decides to shoot his shot. “I for one am not opposed to such things.” He says with the most confident face he can muster. 

Jester looks a little taken aback, as does the rest of the group for that matter. “ _Oh_ \- um, sure, ja, ja, ja, I mean - I’m not one to kinkshame.” Essek feels himself blush slightly against his better will and judgement, and crosses his arms defensively and he feels the weight of the stares of the rest of the group. 

Caleb, being one for mental games of dragonchess, knows _exactly_ what Essek is going after, and feels a wash and jealousy and panic at the notion of Essek being able to kiss Jester while he opts out, and so taking a deep breath, he looks him dead in the eyes and counters. “Neither am I.” 

The two stare at the other for a long moment, both men assessing the other for _any_ sign of weakness, any sign of cowardice, but both find themselves displeased at the other man’s lack of backing down. 

Jester blushes slightly at the implications of what the two are saying, and is slightly off-put by the strange… _one-upmanship_ they appear to be displaying, but nods her head regardless, not wanting to displease them or shut their requests down. “Ja, ja… sure! Sure. I can work with that.” 

In this moment, Beau internally finds sirens blaring in her head - not to mention the not-so-subtle proposition and implications of what the two men just confessed to, but _also_ at the weirdly sexually charged game of chicken the two appear to be playing right in front of her eyes. “You know, I feel like I’m learning a lot more about the two of you right now than I ever really cared to know.” 

Essek breaks his stare with Caleb to shoot the monk a slightly haughty glare. “Then don’t watch.” 

Sensing tension in the room, Jester nervously interrupts the increasingly hostile situation. “Anyways, so, like - back to the topic of hard-no’s, you guys - sooooooo I guess my hard-no’s would be: I _don’t_ like manacles or handcuffs of any kind, but I suppose rope bonage is still something that’s on the table - not into any of the _bodily functions_ stuff if you know what I mean - also vore, inflation, and I don’t really like the idea of tentacles, just too slimy for me - and while it’s not necessarily a _hard-no,_ I just don’t really like the idea of impactplay - _except for spanking_ \- because, like, I _do_ get beat to shit when we’re adventuring and all, but maybe a light slap here and there in the heat moment wouldn’t be _toooooo_ bad… let’s see… _hmmmm_... you know you, I think that’s it! For now, at least.” 

… 

There is a _very_ long pause as the whole room absorbs the _very_ personal information just shared in the public forum. Essek can’t help the thought - _That leaves_ **_so_ ** _many options still on the table_ \- and his mind is immediately thrust straight into the gutter, fixating on all those _options_ . _She likes spanking -_ **_she likes spanking_ ** _\- I can work with that. I can_ **_certainly_ ** _work with that._

Caleb immediately flushes and averts his gaze from Jester, trying desperately to halt the lewd intrusive thoughts bombarding him currently thanks to this new information, but ultimately failing. 

Beau is the first to break the awkward silence in her usual deadpan manner. “Are we talking about our sex lives now? We listing our kinks? Because if so, I’ll go ahead and break out the _good_ wine from the cellar.” 

Essek takes a deep breath, and almost sighs slightly. “I am a slightly offended you did not serve me the good wine to begin with, but yes, I certainly need to be a little more drunk for that conversation.” 

Beau moves to sit up in her beanbag. “Ditto.” She squeezes Yasha’s knee for a moment, who flushes deeply at the implication, before getting up and leaving the room momentarily.

Jester puts her hands up in a slightly defensive manner. “Okay okay okay - I’m not saying we all have to go around the circle listing our kinks, though we could if you like, because there’s _no shame_ here - and I didn't list my kinks anyway! _Let me tell ya_ , muuuuch longer list.” Caleb bites _hard_ on the inside of his cheek, seriously trying to ground himself and his thoughts before it became an _evident_ problem for him. “I just want all of us to be honest with each other, you know - I just need to know what we’re all comfortable with! And what topics or things I shouldn’t cross - it just so happens that, like, I’m pretty much an open book, you know, and all my hard-no’s can also pertain to sex!” She justifies, huffing her shoulders slightly towards the end. 

Caleb clears his throat. “Jester is right.” Jester turns in his direction a slightly relieved smile on her face at the fact someone else is agreeing with her. “We are playing with magic that blurs the line of consent here, and we should treat it with the seriousness that warrants. We’re all adults here, and it’s only responsible that we simply be upfront with each other as Jester has said. No need to bring our _kinks_ into the equation unless we wish to or feel the need.” 

“Exactly!” Jester says enthusiastically. “I just want us all to have fun, you know.” 

Veth nods her head in agreement. “You know, when Yeza and I first got together, we did the very same thing - just had a very frank and honest conversation as to what we liked and did not like, our yes’s, no’s, and hard-no’s - it’s important to establish boundaries in a relationship.” 

“Ja, ja! What have I been saying this whole time!” Jester raises her hands emphatically. 

Wanting to reassure Jester further, Caleb turns back to look her in her eyes. “It shows a great amount of empathy, Jester, and consideration for that matter, in wanting to ensure that we all are as comfortable as can be. It speaks to your wisdom in understanding people.” 

A small, soft smile spreads across Jester’s features, just the _faintest_ of blushes dusting her cheeks. “Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles back at her, and taps his nose with his forefinger lightly, to which Jester’s smile broadens as she echos the motion back to him. Essek can feel the cold tendrils of jealousy curl around his heart watching the tenderness in their shared expressions.

“Anyways - why don’t we go clockwise, no?” Caleb posits to the group. “I’ll go next.” He takes a deep breath, casting a sideways glance towards Jester for a quick dose of courage, and folds his hands in his lap. “ _Well_ \- I suppose if I were to think of my ‘hard-no’s’ in relation to this little game - I would say definitely anything regarding my… ah… _schooling_ , you would say...” Caleb’s eyes lock with Essek’s, who gazes back at him with a barely restrained look of intrigued curiosity, his hand going to cup his chin as he leans forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees, and Caleb had to take a deep breath to force himself to bare his insecurities in front of this man - _For Jester, this is_ **_all_ ** _for Jester._ “... I would deeply appreciate nothing to do with ‘ _Mister Ickythong’_ as Jester so aptly dubbed him -’ He turns to look at Jester with a slightly nervous smile, who chuckles lightly remembering the nickname, while Essek seems to nod slowly, leaning back into his chair, a guarded but knowing expression on his face, “- and I would politely ask for nothing regarding my family to be brought up. And - ah… anything to do with Vergesson would be best to be avoided…” His eyes look down to his hands, and to his pock-marked scarred arms for a moment, and he can feel the whispers of deeply embedded unpleasant memories begin to creep up in his consciousness - but he looks away, and looks towards Jester, who looks so lovely sitting next to him, in his own shirt, her lavender eyes a well of empathy and understanding, her features soft and gentle - and at least for the moment, the memories can’t seem to reach the surface, not when all he can see is Jester right in front of him. “I think that should be it.” 

Jester quickly reaches out for his hand, giving it a brief squeeze, much to the shock and delight of Caleb. “Thank you for being sharing, Caleb - and thank you for trusting me, and all of us here.” She says with such sincerity in her voice Caleb oddly almost wishes to _cry_ at how genuine she is, and how _deeply_ he realizes he needed to hear from her, but he fights the urge, clearing his throat and straightening his spine, attempting to right himself and his emotions. 

“Ja, um - well, we’re all friends here, no?” Caleb shoots a questioning look towards Essek, cautious and wary. 

Essek quirks his brow and shrugs nonchalantly. “But of course.”

Jester claps her hands together and points to Veth, sitting to the left of Caleb. “Yep! Okay, you’re next, Veth!”  
  


The halfling woman smiles slightly and looks out towards the group. “Right, so - no water, water bad, drowning bad, the usual for me - don’t really like breathplay, I’d say, Yeza and I tried that once and it didn’t really end well - that and it’s a little evocative of drowning, so, you know - bad… and that just about does it for me!” She crosses her legs in her beanbag, and gives a content and confidence smile towards the rest of the group, before calling out towards the door, “Beau! It’s your turn!” 

Jester leans forward slightly in her seat. “ _Beauuuuuu!_ ” 

Veth calls out again, “ _Beauregard, it’s your turn! Get ‘yer ass in here!”_

From the stairwell, a slightly annoyed Beau shouts after them, “ _I’m coming, I’m coming - Gods, excuse me for getting you assholes some wine!”_ She huffs up to the door of the Happy Room, two bottles of Lionett wine in hand. She resumes her seat next to Veth and Yasha, placing one of the bottles in the center of the circle, uncorking the other and taking a quick swig for herself.

With a very slight wave of his fingers, Essek causes the bottle in the center to levitate off the ground, and gracefully drift in the air towards his outstretched hand, the cork simply floating off the bottle without a problem. Jester’s eyes go wide in awe. “Whoooooooa - you _have_ to teach me that Essek!”

Essek gives her a smug smile. “Tis but a parlor trick - I’m sure you could pick it up very quickly.” He takes a drink straight from the bottle, definitely not his preferred method nor one he employs in his personal use, but the one available to him. He’s surprised slightly by how good it actually is - complex in it’s flavor, but deeply addicting, and he immediately takes another drink just to get to taste more of it. “Thank you for getting us the good wine, Beauregard, it’s very nice.” 

Beau shrugs aloofly, passing the bottle to Veth, who decides to pass, handing the bottle to Caleb, who takes a swig for himself. “It was laying around.” She looks to Yasha for a moment, and then out towards the rest of the group, placing her hands on her knees, and taking a deep breath. “Right. So. I ain’t listing any of the sex shit with you lot.” She prefaces. “But anyways - non-sex-shit hard no’s: don’t talk about my family, don’t ask me about my sex life, and don’t try to make me do anything straight. I will literally barf.” She deadpans, extending her forefinger warningly, her expression dead serious and stony. 

Jester gives her the thumbs up. “Yoooooooou got it, Beau!” She turns to look at Yasha expectantly. “Yasha?” 

Yasha looks towards Beau for reassurance, who takes her hand once more and gives it a tight squeeze. Yasha smiles softly at her, her slightly anxious expression melting away into one of deep trust and adoration. Yasha blushes slightly, nodding her head. “Yes - alright. Alright.” She turns to look at the rest of the group. “So - well, ah - um, I think that - ah, well, you know, anything to do with - you know, _Obann_ … I would very much like that we don’t touch that _subject_ … and, you know, I think perhaps things regarding death in general, and people in my life who have died, or people I’ve… _anyways._ Um… I think that just about covers it… that I can think of. I’ll let you know if I think of any more.” Yasha’s eyes trail down to her hand in Beau’s. Beau, upon Yasha finishing her statement, takes her partner’s hand and brings it to her lips, looking her in her eyes, and gives her hand a slow, soft kiss. 

Jester brings her hands to her face, squishing her cheeks together slightly. “Awwwwwww, you guys - you’re so cute it hurts!” Jester sighs slightly, her heart split between finding the interaction completely adorable, and also feeling a slight tinge of… _jealousy_ , or _longing_ , to have someone kiss _her_ hand and look at _her_ like that. 

At this point, Fjord clears his throat and interjects. “Yes, quite actually, deeply painful to look at, tone it down you two, if you wouldn’t mind.” He says sarcastically. 

Beau glares at the Half-Orc. “Hey, fuck you Fjord!” She jabs back at him, beginning to pepper Yasha’s arm with slow, sensual kisses, all while shooting daggers directly in Fjord’s direction with her piercing blue eyes. 

Essek simply _drinks_ , he _drinks_ at the increasingly odd circumstances he finds himself in, at the _increasingly_ sexual situation this is all turning into, and to quell his own nerves regarding all of this, his previous slight buzz burgeoning on tipsiness. 

Fjord pointedly looks away from the two, creating a blinder with his hands. “If you two are going to fuck, would you care to leave the room before doing so, or are you simply going to be filthy animals with no shame?” He says with an increased sense of sarcastic false-superiority and prudishness. 

Beau breaks away from Yasha when she meets her shoulder, and laughs at Fjord. “Oh, that’ll come later. But I don’t want to miss whatever fuckery is about to ensue.” 

Fjord shrugs. “Valid.” He then turns his attention to the group. “So. I suppose I’m next.” He looks down to the hands in his lap, and fiddles with his thumbs slightly, pausing for a moment, almost stalling in a way, before he collects his thoughts and steeles his resolve. “Right. So - I think I would agree with Jester here, having been in the grasp of a sea demon-idol-betrayer god-monstrosity, I can very much say that tentacles are off the table for me - I suppose, perhaps, maybe let’s _not_ talk about Avantika… and as Beau said, let’s just _avoid_ the topic of my sex life in general - and I think that just about does it.” 

Fjord turns to look at Caduceus, who startles slightly, realizing it’s his turn. “ _Hey_ -” He instinctively says in his classic inviting and warm manner, “- well, I think I should be honest and say that I don’t quite understand a lot of the terms being thrown around here, I’m still excited to learn, and to see all of you being upfront and honest with each other, that’s just nice - now, for myself, I don’t quite know if there’s really much of anything that’s a _hard-no_ the way the rest of you seem to have - I like to think of myself as a rather open person, open to new opportunities and experiences, so I don’t think much is ‘off-limits’ for me. But of course, should something arise that I take issue with, or find myself not being very fond of, I’m sure I’ll make sure to inform the group accordingly.” 

Jester smiles warmly towards the tall firbolg. “ _Thank you_ Caduceus -” Jester turns to look at the neighboring Essek, a mischievous glint in her lavender eyes. “- _Essssssek_ \- your turn!” 

Essek looks at her expression, and he can feel a bead of sweat begin to worry at his brow, his confidence faltering slightly at having to divulge any information about himself, a subject he highly guards and rarely lets see the light of day, especially in the presence of company - his first impulse is to lie, to make up some random falsehoods to obscure his true nature to this group of people - but he looks to Jester, who looks so genuinely intrigued, so eager to get the chance to learn something about him, to get to _know_ him, and he knows he can’t _lie_ to _her_ \- _Not anymore. I can’t ruin things further. I can’t._ So he takes a large swig of the alcohol provided desperately seeking the boldness and honesty of liquid courage. “ _Well_ \- _hard-no’s_ , ah?” He forces himself to smile in a manner he hopes appears confident and put-together, but he can feel the corners of his mouth twitch slightly in his nerves. “I suppose…” He takes a deep breath and lets out a tense exhale, his fingers moving gracefully through the air as he casts See Invisibility. “Just a precaution - so that I may know if someone decides to _peer in_ on this conversation. While Mr. Widogast and myself may be protected against such magic, I know the rest of you are not, so…” Essek trails off his sentence, realizing last minute the true implications of what he just said, accidentally reinforcing the fact that he broke their trust and invading their privacy on multiple occasions by the order of the Dynasty. 

The air in the room goes stale, if but for a moment, as the group sits with that reminder, before Essek clears his throat slightly, and continues. “ _Anyhow_ … now that I can be assured we are _alone_ \- I would say that I concur with the rest of you, I don’t like to talk about my family if I can help it - and I would _say_ … I am more… _‘willing_ ’ so-to-speak to divulge certain aspects of my job as the Shadowhand, and my… _‘extracurricular’_ activities I suppose you can call them, with you all, _because_ … perhaps against my better judgement, I do like you all - and I think that it’s for the best that now - that _now_ I should be a little more… _forthright_ in my actions, as I see it as a net benefit for both of us - _though_ , that being said, such the information asked of me prove to be too classified or downright dangerous for your safety to know, please understand, Jester -” Essek turns to face her, looking deep within her eyes, a softer, and more reassuring look within them unlike one he’s ever given her before, “it is only for _your_ sake, and the sake of all of the rest of you, that I do not relish in the idea of deceiving you - in fact quite the opposite, if I am entirely honest.” Essek pauses for a moment, slightly taken aback even at his own words and admission, his train of thought and usual guardedness a little thrown by the _surprisingly_ strongly imbibed wine coursing through his bloodstream at the moment. “ _Anyways_ \- not a hard-no, but a soft-no, but one that should be stated regardless.”

Jester smiles, a look of budding excitement gleaming in her eyes. “ _Sooooooo -_ now that we’ve all shared, and stated our comfort levels and boundaries - should we all get started?” The Nein look amongst themselves, some with looks of trepidation, other with looks of indifference, but all give a light nod and a shrug, while Jester’s smile widens into a full blown grin. “ _Excellent_ \- _sooooooo_ \- I’m going to cast it now - and if you resist the spell, I’ll know, so _don’t even try_ ~” Jester says with a sing-song lilt to her voice, and then casts Lavorre’s Zone of Truth or Dare. 

Everyone save for Yasha feels a sudden wave of dizzying magic pulse through them, their minds feeling _altered_ slightly, their impulses feeling looser, almost akin to an intoxication of sorts - Essek’s pleasant tipsiness is intensified, suddenly feeling properly _drunk_ \- and he immediately can sense this becoming a problem for him. He feels a very strong urge to scoot his bean bag closer to Jester’s, to simply be _closer_ to her, to have his skin graze against hers - _What I would give right now to lay my head in her lap…_ His position shifts slightly, leaning his body in closer towards her, moving his bean bag slightly to be nearer toward her. 

Jester flushes slightly, suddenly much more aware of Essek’s presence to her right, and the heady magnetism being close to him seems to cause. “ _Anyways…_ so, let’s go clockwise!” Jester turns her head towards Caleb. “ _Caaaayleb_ \- Truth or Dare?” 

Caleb shoots Essek a wayward glance, and narrows his eyes slightly in a challenging manner. “ _Dare._ ” 

Jester rubs her hands together and _grins._ “Hmmmmm.... what to do, what to do… Oh! Oh! Okay okay okay - I dare you teach me the dirtiest phrase you know Zemnian!” 

Caleb immediately feels the impulse of the spell course through him, and almost without thinking, he speaks from the heart. “ _Ich will dich sinnlos ficken.”_ His voice becomes deeper, subtly raspy in a way that sends a thrill through Jester, even though she has no idea what it means. 

“Okay - so, _ich will dick -”_

_“Dich_ , like deh-chk, once more.” 

Jester nods, pursing her lips slightly in determination. “ _Ich will dich… sinn - los… ficken? Ich will dich sinnlos ficken!”_

Heat rushes to Caleb’s cheeks hearing Jester repeat such a phrase in his native tongue to him, especially in front of so many people, but secretly, there’s an aspect as to the whole public nature of this which he finds a little exciting in and of itself. “ _Very good_.” 

Beau perks her head up. “So Caleb - what does that mean exactly?” 

“Ja, ja, ja - what does that _mean_ , Caleb?” Jester wiggles her brow suggestively. 

“That was never a part of the dare, Frau Lavorre.” Caleb sinks back into his chair. 

Jester’s eyes narrow. “ _Hmmmmm_ . Tricky, tricky - _I’ll get you, Widogast!_ ” Jester exclaims playfully. “Anyways - you chose dare, so - now I have to do a dare! _Dare me, Caleb!_ ” 

Caleb pauses, considering what exactly he would want her to do, especially in the parameters of the current company. “I dare you teach _me_ the dirtiest phrase you know in Infernal. 

“ _Oooooooooo_ \- there’s _so many_ … Oh! Okay okay okay - _Xe silz haf za rijuwm py idd luqmz dalq._ ” Jester says longingly, almost slipping into a character, but looking Caleb dead in the eyes. 

Caleb tries desperately to wrap his head around what she just said to him, and tries not to fixate on the yearning in her voice as she spoke her native tongue, and instead on her pronunciation of what sounded to him like beautiful nonsense. “Right - _right_ . Um - _Xe silz haf za rijuwm py idd luqmz dalq_.” Caleb repeats back to her, trying to mimic her intonation, and doing so in a rather good approximation, but finding he doesn’t even need to try to evoke the same longing in his voice. 

Jester’s eyes go wide, impressed at his ability to pick up some of the nuances of the language, but also at being told such lascivious things in her own tongue, and from _Caleb_ no less - a rather intense blush comes to her face, and she has to look away slightly, her eyes training on the ground to try and collect and de-sanitize her thoughts. “That was - that was really good, Caleb. I didn’t even need to teach.” 

Caleb scratches the back of his neck slightly, feeling both bashful and yet confident at her praise. “I just have a good memory, is all. Very good at repeating things.” 

“ _Apparently._ ” Jester takes a deep breath, and turns her attention to the halfling sitting next to him. “Okay - _sooooooo,_ Veth - Truth or Dare?” 

Veth gives her a mischievous look. “ _Dare_.” 

Jester taps her finger to her chin, considering. “I dare you to give a genuine compliment to Fjord. From the heart!” 

Fjord looks back at Jester, slightly puzzled. “Any reason in particular?” 

“Ja - you two are _always_ insulting the other or fighting in some way or another - it’s funny to watch, but I think that we always need to let those around us know that we still care about them, even if we fight sometimes. So - _Veth_ \- do your dare!” 

The Halfing nods respectfully, and clears her throat, turning to face the Half-Orc in question. “Fjord,” She starts, “your beard looks nice. It suits your face. And you’re not a complete and total bastard man - sometimes.” 

Fjord smirks, crossing his arms. “Say it again.” 

“No.” Veth instinctively retorts. 

Jester shrugs, content with the meager offering she was given. “Okay, I _guess_ that’ll do… anyways, _sooooooo_ \- tell me your dare!”

Veth gives her a smug and knowing look, like she’s plotting right in front of Jester’s eyes. “I dare you to tell me how old you are!” 

Jester stops dead in her tracks, a little shocked at the question - she’s always been rather covetous of this information, and always hated when people ask her this question, and the judgement she receives whenever she answers honestly - so she usually just doesn’t answer at all. Caleb and Essek both lean in slightly, themselves deeply curious and perhaps a little _too_ invested in the answer. “That’s not a dare, Veth.” Jester responds, softer than she’s like to. 

Beau leans in, her elbow resting on her knee. “You always seem to avoid this question.” 

“That’s not a _dare_ , that’s a _truth_.” Jester backtracks, dodging Beau’s line of inquiry. 

“ _Fine,_ fine, valid point, Jessie.” Veth relents. “I dare you to send a message to the Bright Queen.” At this, Essek rubs his fingers to his temples, and guzzles the wine in front of him, now _desperately_ seeking intoxication as to not think of what he’ll have to tell his boss in the morning. “You know how at times, when you’re running out of things to say in the 25 word limit, you kind of just… make shit up? Just random shit to fill the space? And it usually ends up being hilarious and embarrassing? Do that.” 

Jester’s features begin to widen into grin, her spirits lifted at the thought of pranks. “ _Ooooh_ \- I like it! Okay okay okay - Imma do it!” 

And, with that, Jester casts sending. “ _Heyyyyyyy BQ -“_

Essek bursts out laughing, uncharacteristically for his usual cool and composed demeanor, deeply loosened by the effects of the alcohol and the utter ridiculousness and gall of calling the _Empress of the Dynasty ‘BQ’,_ his laughter rocking through him, and sending him forwards and at an angle in his seat, landing him directly in Jester’s lap. 

“- _how ya doing? Just thinking of you, your gowns are really pretty, and stuff…_ ” 

Essek continues to laugh in Jester’s lap, a little lost in just how _soft_ her thighs are, and how flushed he feels against her cool skin, as everyone else around him begins to laugh as well. Jester rests one of her hands in his hair, as she herself tries to find something to ground her as to not give into the giggles bubbling at the back of her throat. Essek leans into her touch, and he knows he’s done for at this point - there’s a _reason_ why he doesn’t get _drunk_ , especially not in the company of others, instead choosing to perform restraint and polite sociability in having a mild buzz from whatever spirits are poured in his cup - Essek gets _soft_ . Embarrassingly so. _Her thighs are like the downiest pillow in Exandria - I could lie in them all day._ He feels the _strongest_ urge to just nuzzle her perfectly squishy and velvet-like skin with his nose, and bury himself in her touch - _Control yourself, Theyless! At least try!_ It seems like such a good idea, to just lie here, and fall asleep in her lap - perfectly reasonable, perfectly doable - but even through his mounting stupor, he curbs that urge, and simply allows himself to bask in the blissful intimacy of her fingers in his hair, his head resting on her thighs, the pleasant hint of lavender emanating from her skin, and the _closeness_ of it all - _When was the last time I did something like this?_ Essek pauses in his laughter for a moment - _Have I_ **_ever_ ** _done something like this?_

_“- who’s your tailor? Anyways… have a goodnight! Sweet dreams!_ ” Jester finishes her message, and puts her fist up to her mouth to stifle her laughter as she awaits a response, her other hand absentmindedly tangling through the impressively silky stark white locks of the handsome Drow in her lap. 

Groggily, the voice of the Bright Queen comes through in Jester’s mind. “ _What?”_ Jester’s eyes go wide, as she herself keels over slightly, her hand going to her mouth to quell her own laughter, her chest unintentionally leaning directly over Essek’s eyeline, giving him ample view of her well-endowed breasts in the moment, much to his surprise but secret delight. “ _I am trying to sleep, Jester, this certainly is not the time - please refrain from messaging me again like this.”_ The Bright Queen’s voice rings throughout Jester’s mind, her frustrated tone still managing to maintain an air of polite civility given the circumstances. 

Jester leans back up, composing herself slightly, much to Essek’s disappointment. “Oh man, you guys -” Jester looks out amongst the group, who all look to her with eagerness for response, “- she sounded _piiiiiiiiiissed.”_

Caleb’s brow twitches slightly, suddenly more concerned than amused. “Do you think that we could be in trouble the next time we see her? Do you think this jeopardizes our position here in any way?” 

Jester brings her hand not currently nestled in Essek’s hair to her mouth, a little worried herself. “I don’t know, Caleb - she told me ‘not to message her again like this’, _soooooooo_ …” 

Catching him much by surprise, a certain Empress’s cool voice pierces through Essek’s foggy mind. “ _Shadowhand._ ” Essek bolts up from his delightful nest in Jester’s thighs, catching Jester by surprise, her hand still trailing after him, seeking his touch. A cold panic seeps through him, and for a moment he feels stark sober. “ _Please curtail your wards. Especially the blue one. I will speak with you tomorrow in the Bastion at 10 sharp. It’s becoming a problem.”_

Essek gulps audibly, and he takes a deep, shaky inhale. _Shit. Shit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._ Essek straightens his back, and dives straight back into the bottle of wine left by his seat. Jester looks towards him with concern. “What’s wrong, Essek?” Her voice is softer, disturbed by the sudden and inexplicable barely masked panic in his eyes. 

Essek takes an inelegant swig from the bottle of wine, which is now half empty by his own efforts - normally, he would _never_ allow himself to act like this, especially in _public_ , and in mixed company, but he feels a wave of drunken apathy crest over him in the present moment, his overriding urge for blissful stupor outweighing decorum - _Anything to not have to think about the morning._ He turns to Jester, his hands still on the bottle, and almost wants to laugh at the situation, because he thinks that she would find all of this amusing, and might not grasp the true gravity of the situation. “I believe the ‘BQ’ is not quite getting the joke.” He gives a strained smile - _I wish I didn’t worry. It would make things so much easier._

For a moment, Essek could swear he could see her eyes register the same initial panic he felt on the receiving end of the message, but like an artisan, she quickly paints over that worry, at least externally, like a thin, glossy veneer over a chipping work - she looks down at her lap, and giggles nervously, before looking back up to the rest of the Nein. “She’ll probably get in the morning.” 

Veth nods, though slightly less confidently. “Sometimes, you know, things become funnier in hindsight.” 

Jester nods emphatically, latching onto the concept immediately. “Ja, ja, ja - you know, I bet she’ll wake up tomorrow and think ‘oh, that Jester is a really funny one, and she was super nice and complimented me, maybe she just really likes my gowns?’ You know?”

Caleb nervously looks around the room, in this house provided to him by the ‘BQ’s favor (and Essek’s, admittedly), and can’t help but feel uneasy at the notion of that favor waning. He looks at Essek, a long, hard, piercing stare, and takes in his sudden voracious appetite for the bottle of wine in front of him, and that uneasiness grows and festers into proper worry. He takes a swig himself. 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Jester’s fists ball in the skirts of her dress, before forcing her attention to run to the game at hand, “Beau: Truth or Dare?”

Beau pauses, and considers Jester’s question for a moment. “You know what? _Truth._ ” 

Jester grins excitedly towards her. “ _Okay okay okay - truuuuth…_ ooooooooo I know! When did you first know that you liked Yasha? Like, _like-liked_ her, you know?” 

Beau turns her head to look at her girlfriend, who looks both deeply interested and a little bashful at possibly learning this information. She smirks slightly, finding her response deeply cute. “Well - I mean, I always kind of had a thing for her. Shit, look at her - Yasha, you’re buff as shit and stunningly beautiful and soft at the same time - really, it should be criminal.” Yasha puts a hand to her face, genuinely endeared if not slightly overwhelmed at such praise and affirmation. “But… you know, when it really all clicked for me, when it really just crystalized for me that she was the one - honestly, it was at that fish market.” 

Fjord nods his head slowly, sinking back further into his beanbag. “Right, yes - you two were just making such ‘sex eyes’ at eachother that entire time. Very awkward to have to witness.” 

Caduceus’s brow furrows in confusion. “Sex eyes? What are _sex eyes_?” 

Jester eagerly pipes up at the mention of her favorite subject, “It’s when you’re like, _really horny_ and into someone, and you just - _look at them_ , and convey your horniess with your eyes, you know?” Essek takes another drink, attempting to hide his face in the bottle.

Caduceus considers her answer for a moment, before shaking his head slightly. “No, I don’t think I do.” 

Beau smirks, turning her attention back to Jester now. “Well, I answered my truth - now time to finally answer mine, Jess - _how old are you, really?_ ”

Words fail Jester. She can feel them on the tip of her tongue, all of her frustrated, shame-filled, and _hurt_ thoughts at repeatedly being asked this question evokes nearly spilling out of her and onto the hardwood in front of her - but she can’t bring herself to say the actual words herself. She looks to her friends, their gazes feeling overwhelming and overbearing, and so she stares at the black skirts of her dress, her fists balling the material in her grasp, tensing and untensing as she sits in silence, not answering the question. 

Essek is a man who makes his living based in secrets - one could say it’s his favored terrain. He relishes on hoarding them, on knowing everything about everything and everyone - especially what they don’t _want_ him to know. But he can’t, for the life of him, understand exactly why Jester views her _age_ as a secret - _She looks to be a woman in her early to mid twenties - what’s the_ **_shame_ ** _in that? Why would that warrant such a… reaction?_ He can sense her defensiveness in her posture, and just the faintest tint of _anger_ in her lavender eyes - it makes his heart ache and he doesn’t know why, but in his drunken and emotionally heightened state, he acts on his base impulse, and actually puts his hand on hers in an almost alien act of comfort - Jester notices this, and almost winces slightly at the surprise of his touch, which to he immediately retracts his hand, thinking the better of it, but overall, not meaning to spook her or put her off any further. _Stupid,_ **_stupid_ ** _move, Essek - way to fuck things up._

Jester’s eyes meet Essek’s, and she can see the confusion in his eyes, his usual mask and unreadable features melted away into a much more raw, unfiltered, and _honest_ expression, with real emotion behind his gaze, not simply the appearance or polite expectation of it - and it occurs to her how much of the bottle of wine in front of him sits empty, and she can’t help but feel saddened that she can only see Essek, the _real_ Essek, with concern and vulnerability in his eyes after half a bottle of wine. 

Jester sighs, deeply, and takes a deep breath, righting herself and her resolve, and looks Beau in her eyes. “ _I’m 25_.” 

Beau’s head cocks to the side, her brows furrowing slightly. “What’s wrong with being 25?” She asks softly, knowing she’s poking at a sore subject, but genuinely not understanding. 

Jester’s shoulders slump, as she curls her knees to her chin, her arms wrapping themselves around her knees. “I mean, I don’t - I don’t think there’s anything _wrong_ with being 25, it’s just…it’s just what _other_ people think is wrong with it.” 

Yasha looks towards Jester with a soft yet cautious expression. “Other people?” 

Jester purses her lips slightly. “ _Yeah._ ” She trains her eyes on the floor, and the patterns in the litany of rugs slewn across the floor in front of her, and wishes she could just simply sink into their geometry, and cease being _here_ , being _present_ , and having to have _this_ conversation _right now_ \- or at _all_ . “ _I’m not stupid, you know_ .” She says softly, in that introspective and solemn tone that her voice takes when she’s forced to confront her own internal darkness. “I know that I act - I know people can think… I know people think I’m _childish_.” She spits out the word venomously, trying to eject the poison that term carries out of her system.

She bolsters her courage, and lifts her eyes to look at her friends in front of her, who sit with her words, slowly digesting them, perhaps for the first time having to understand them and understand their own conceptions of who Jester is - and she can see them swallow the challenge she’s issued, the challenge to confront their own judgement and sensibility regarding her and how they valued her - her throat feels tight, like her own words are constricting around her, binding her, as she feel the threat of tears prick at her eyes. “I know that I don’t always address things in the most… ‘ _adult’_ fashion, or think things through as much as I should - and that I like… that I like soft things, _childish_ things, and that people think I’m a _fool_ because of it - it’s part of why I took the name, after all - I _am_ a fool, I _am_ a Jester - and that because of the way I act, and how I approach the world, and because of who I am as a _person_ , people think that I _am_ a child because in their eyes I act like one.” Her breath is shaky at this point, streigned, and _weak_ \- _Always_ **_weak_ ** \- and she desperately doesn’t want to cry, especially at such a _simple_ and unremarkable question asked of her, but that _want_ only intensifies that _urge_ to breakdown, and actually _allow_ herself to cry at all of the complex and raw emotions that simple question evokes deep within her. “I mean, you even said it, Veth - I act like I’m 15 or something.” Jester sheepishly looks at the halfling, her friend, her comrade in chaos - and she feels so _guilty_ for latching on so heavily at that passing, innocent comment, meant with absolutely no malice at all, and she finds her gaze too much to hold, her eyes retreating back to the rugs on the floor. “ _I don’t act my age.”_ She says under her breath, almost too soft to hear, were it not for the silence of her friends surrounding her. She takes another labored breath, and swallows that scream within her too weep openly, her eyes glassy as she faces her friends once more, forcing a failing smile on her features. “So when I tell people my age - 25 - _I know they judge me_.” 

Jester is a complicated person, Caleb knows this - most people disregarded her and her actions and fixations as surface level child-like whimsy, and he knows that even the members of his own party are guilty of doing so, having watched them do it right before his very eyes - and in the rare moments of vulnerability Jester allows herself to have in which he’s granted the honor to see her in, to really _see_ her in - it never fails to tug at his heartstrings. There are so many things he feels regarding her statement, and regarding her in her entirety - but it never fails to pain him to see her like this. He wishes he could take away the pain he sees in her, and to wipe away the tears in her eyes, and let her know just how truly _loved_ she is - but he knows that he can’t - and he can’t help but feel weak himself. _But I can try_. 

“I don’t think anyone here judges you, Jester.” Caleb says softly. 

Jester turns to look at him - his expression is so gentle, so reassuring, and so _sweet_ , and _knowing_ , a look of recognition and acceptance in his dark blue eyes, themselves layered and complicated to look into - and now she _really_ wants to cry, because it’s almost too much to handle, too much to comprehend, to actually _be_ accepted, to be _seen_ , to be met with kindness and **_love_ ** \- it’s almost unbearable, inconceivable, and she can’t help but feel so undeserving of such warmth. _“Really?_ ” 

Caleb nods softly. “How can we? You’re our friend. I… we love you _because_ of who you are, how you act, your interests, and how you care for those around you - all of which has nothing to do with your age. We have been your friend this long without even knowing it - but it certainly was never a factor then, and shouldn’t be now. There is nothing wrong with your age. It’s just another part of you that we all get to love.” 

It’s the sincerity in Caleb’s eyes and in his words that finally break the damn, a single tear and then another streaming down her face with reckless abandon. She smiles at Caleb, almost unable to hold and maintain it, her nerves twitching in the process, as she finds herself rendered suddenly speechless, unable to verbalize just exactly how _much_ those words mean to her, and to come from _Caleb_ in particular. So all she can do is weakly smile as her tears slowly brim over, basking in the warm glow of true acceptance. 

From his leather pouch strapped to the side of his belt, Essek produces a simple linen handkerchief, and tentatively extends it towards Jester, trying his best to be wary of actually touching her, as that didn’t seem to actually help her last time, despite the nagging urge to smother her in his touch - _To just simply wipe those tears from her eyes, to cup her cheek and press my forehead to hers…_ **_Drunk, man, you’re drunk_ ** _\- and getting sloppy at that. Get yourself together, and_ **_reign it in_ ** . In his rather drunken state, which _always_ seems to heighten his emotions ( _all_ of them, the good _and_ the bad), he himself can feel that same tightening in his throat and wetness of the eyes, his heart aching at the knowledge that Jester would cry at being told that she is loved, as if she didn’t already believe it himself - a feeling he knows all too well, every time she smiles at him, sends him a message, and gives him her pure and unadulterated friendship and support, even in the wake of his own damnable actions and mistakes - and he knows that it’s the wine talking, and that Essek Theyless, Sober Person, wouldn’t normally cry at this, but would still feel the same ache, albeit not as intensely to the point of tears - and he knows that he _really_ should save that handkerchief for himself, as to not _cry_ in front of the _Mighty Nein_ (and Caleb in particular), but it’s better used by her in this moment. 

Jester looks to his outstretched hand, and then to his eyes - she can see a mirrored sorrow in them, a mutual understanding in her sadness in this moment, a commiseration that she doesn’t expect - she can see genuine emotion in his eyes, turmoil and _want_ \- but for what? To _speak_ ? To _comfort?_ To **_touch_ ** ? She looks to handkerchief in his hand, averting her eyes from his confusing and dizzying gaze, and gingerly takes the linen square into her hands, her smile softening and widening ever so slightly. She looks back up to Essek’s eyes, and silent words a small ‘Thank you’ his way. Jester swears that his cheeks flush _just_ a tad more purple than usual, his sad smile widening in kind. 

She dabs lightly at her eyes with Essek’s handkerchief, and looks down at her lap. “I really didn’t mean to _cry_ , you guys.” 

Beau looks towards her friend with a sympathetic expression. “I didn’t mean to _make_ you cry, Jess - I’m sorry.” 

Jester looks up at Beau, and raises her hands slightly in a reassuring motion. “No no no, Beau, you didn’t make me cry! It’s not you, really! I’m just… I dunno, I’m not used to being met with… to being met with understanding, I suppose.” 

And with that, Beau dives out of her beanbag, tackling Jester in her spot with a bear hug, causing Jester to break out into a fit of laughter. “I love you, Jester.” Beau murmurs into Jester’s hair. 

“ _Awwww, Beau_ \- I love you too!” Jester wraps her arms around her friend in kind. 

After a few more moments of tenderness, and with all of Jester’s tears now dry, Beau makes her way back to her seat next to Yasha, and the game resumes, each member taking their turn Truth-ing and Dare-ing until eventually they make it to Essek’s turn. Essek nervously looks towards Jester, both delighted and nauseated at the same time at the prospect, though he tries his best to quell his mounting nerves. 

Jester turns her mirthful gaze towards Essek. “ _Sooooooooo, Esssssssek_ \- _Truth or Dare?_ ” She says in a sing-song voice. 

Essek is a pit of nerves, but he can feel the headedness and haze of the liquid courage wash over himself, as he acts on his base impulse. “ _Dare_ .” _Just let me kiss you, by the_ **_Gods_ ** _let me kiss you._

Jester grins widely, as she mulls just _exactly_ what she wants him to do in her head, before her eyes wander to his superbly enchanting painted lips, and an idea sparks. “I _really_ like your lipstick, Essek.” 

A deep sense of satisfaction resonates with himself, a sly smirk beginning to unfurl itself on his face at that knowledge. “ _Thank you_ , Jester.” 

“ _I want it._ ” Says Jester. “I dare you to put your lipstick on me!” 

Immediately, Essek feels the command element of the spell over take him, and he finds himself reaching into the small leather pouch of holding on the side of his belt and procuring the tube from it’s pocket-dimension, before beginning to shift on his knees over to where Jester sits, slightly parting her own thighs with his own knees, uncorking the tube, and taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Hold _very_ still.” 

Essek allows himself to gaze openly at Jester’s plush lips, and relishes in the knowledge that right now, in this moment, he’s allowed to stare plainly at them, fixate on them, and focus his sole attention on them and only them without judgement or fear of refusal. He brushes her hair behind her ears, rationalizing the action as to simply clear his ‘canvas’, but in all actuality simply selfishly desiring to do so for the sake of getting to feel her dark blue locks once more, and to be able to feel more of her pillowy skin beneath his fingertips, and for the sheer _intimacy_ of the gesture - a kind of soft intimacy he rarely if ever has allowed himself to partake in. 

  
  


Jester’s breath hitches in his throat at the sheer proximity, the sheer _closeness_ of it all - _He’s here, he’s right in front of me, and he’s leaning in, and he’s tilting your jaw up, and he’s staring at your lips - ohmygodsohmygods!_ She’s reminded of the time she once Polymorphed into a moth, and how her brain just seemed to turn to fuzz - that’s what she feels now, this warm, heady, _fuzziness_ , but with such a rush of accompanying adrenaline coursing through her so that she feels both Hasted and Slowed at the same time. For a moment, Jester can imagine herself in this same situation, Essek holding her face in his hands, gazing at her lips, so close, so _close_ , like he’s about to kiss her - and she savors that image, that fantasy, and surprises herself by how much she finds herself _wanting_ that, _wanting_ this exact position, though a different scenario - and something deep within her begins to ache, _wanting_ what she knows that she cannot have, and does not have, for many different, logical, and important reasons - _But right now, logic seems of little importance when he’s looking at me like that._

Essek starts first on her cupid’s bow, taking the pointed tip of the lipstick and lightly applying pressure, swiping the color onto Jester’s top lip in a ‘X’ motion with surprising precision and dexterity, clearly a carefully practiced maneuver. “Open slightly for me.” He says almost under his breath, in a surprisingly even-keeled focused manner. Jester complies, opening her mouth slightly, as he takes the point of the lipstick to the left corner of her mouth, and drags the stick across her bottom lip slowly in a steady wiping manner, making sure to fully coat the entirety of her lip in the process. 

Essek smiles softly, admiring his work - the wine-dark red contrasts beautifully against her sky blue skin, emphasizing her lips in a most enticing way. “ _Lovely_.” He whispers, the praise spilling out of his lips as a reflexive response to the sight of her. Her chin still being held in Essek’s grasp, Jester blushes furiously at his compliment, her cheeks almost burning despite herself. 

With his other hand, Essek places two fingers right in front of her mouth. “Wrap your lips around my fingers, dear.” The term of endearment slips before he can really catch himself saying it. 

Jester’s brows furrow intently at his request. “What?” 

“It’s to prevent it from getting on your _teeth_ , darling.” Essek knows he’s getting sloppy, doling out all of these pet names in rapid succession like he’s her lover, like he _has_ and _deserves_ the pleasure of such casual intimacy with her - and he knows it’s _especially_ sloppy to do so right out in the open, in such a public setting - but the thrum of the alcohol in his veins makes it so logical, so rational, so _right_ even though he knows it’s _wrong_ to do so - but he finds that he just doesn’t _care_ , he doesn’t _care_ that the rest of the Nein are watching him intently and with a shocked morbid curiosity at the boldness of his actions, and he doesn’t _care_ that perhaps he would have a little more restraint and subtly were he sober - _But would I_ really _, were I given such an opportunity?_ And he _really_ doesn’t care that he can’t honestly tell. 

Jester narrows her eyes slightly in suspicion, a little hesitant at just what he’s requesting of her - it feels so **_intimate_ ** , sexual and yet platonic at the same time, and such an act of intimacy asked of her from _Essek_ of all people, and in front of _everyone_ \- and she tries to bury the _thrill_ such a command elicits deep within her, and the direct bolt of arousal that strikes down her center and straight to her core. But she thinks on it for a moment, recalling the various times she watched her mother get ready for her performances, and her doing the same thing after applying a coat herself. So, slightly trepidatiously but not unwillingly, she leans forward, and places his fingers in her mouth. 

The first thing Essek feels is the soft embrace of her tongue, almost accidentally brushing against the pads of his fingers, and it’s delightful and odd forked tip, the indent almost cupping his fingertips, which _immediately_ sends his thoughts racing straight towards the gutter, imaging just all that tongue could _do_ \- he does his best to clear his head of his less than _impure_ thoughts, lest it begin to become an _evident_ problem - _But, then again - what are codpieces for?_ Jester looks down at his fingers in her mouth, and he can’t help but notice how full her eyelashes are, and down pretty she looks just like this - her face flushed, her gaze submissively and shyly averted, baring her butterfly-like lashes, and her lips a juicy, temptatious red, wrapped around his fingers - he can _certainly_ imagine such a scenario outside of the context of their current one, without everyone around them, just the two of them, sharing this act of intimacy together separate and away from the wearisome and laborious reality they operate in, and the boundaries and properties the two of them are bound to which _scream_ out to him that this is a _bad_ idea, and not one he should be entertaining - and were he more sober, perhaps he might feel a little more shame in how hard he’s getting right now, just from his fingers in her mouth. But when she _tenses_ the muscles in her mouth, truly _wrapping_ themselves around him, sucking absent her tongue, and she looks up to meet his eyes, her pupils blown wide, almost completely encompassing her lavender irises, timid and cautious, but unmistakingly _aroused_ and interested - then he knows he’s truly gone and done for. The sharp inhale of breath he takes is completely involuntary, almost a gasp, but caught and reigned in at the last moment. 

But in the haze of soft, sky blue skin and navy locks, he can’t help but catch a glimpse of those dark, achingly oceanic eyes of the wizard direct across of him, his attentions diverted by Caleb’s penetrating gaze - they’re dark as a storm, betraying a roiling frustration and fury directed solely on him, but even so - in just the brief moment their eyes lock, Essek can’t help but peer past the haze of his intoxicated state, as notice how his pupils are so _tellingly_ dilated and fixated, and the bitter tang of jealousy and _want_ knotted in his brow - and for a moment, perhaps a small lapse in judgement on both of their ends, Essek can’t exactly **_who_ ** that want and hunger in his eyes is actually directed at. 

Essek quickly diverts his eyes away from Caleb’s, the tips of his prominently pointed ears burning with a newfound wave of flush coursing through him - and he can’t help but feel a slight bit of shame that his fellow Arcanist could even _elicit_ such a reaction from him in the first place. He looks back to Jester, and towards his fingers in her mouth, and he gently withdraws them, leaving a pronounced ring of dark red around his knuckles. He makes a few subtle and deft arcane movements with his hand, and Prestidigitates himself clean. “ _There we go_.” He says almost under his breath, with a soft, almost fondness in his voice. 

Beau, who has stayed quiet throughout this whole ‘encounter’ between Jester and Essek, can’t help but feel a little like she’s intruding on something she wasn’t meant to see - she knows what Essek’s doing, and knows that he’s acting in a way without his usual polite and practiced restraint dignifying a man of the nobility and befitting someone of his high esteem and station, in no part thanks to the now half empty bottle of wine in front of him. But she can’t help but notice the strange _softness_ in the way he’s acting with her friend, a softness she didn’t quite expect from him or really know he was capable of - and it gives her pause for a moment, bringing into question her previous conceptions of who he is as a person, and just exactly what his relationship with Jester actually _is_. But she also can’t help but notice all of Caleb’s jealous tells, the way his nostrils flare when Essek touches Jester, and the jittery thrum of his fingers tapping repetitively against his scar-laden arms, and the dark look in his eyes that she’s rarely ever seen from him - and for a moment, she’s a little worried for her friend. 

Essek produces a small but elegantly engraved silver compact mirror from his pouch, and re-positions himself slightly behind her, extending the mirror out to her. 

When she looks at herself in the mirror, Jester can’t help to subtle yet sharp inhale she lets out, her mouth forming a little ‘oh’ in her wake - for a second, she almost doesn’t recognize the woman in the mirror - she looks so glamorous, sensuous, and… _pretty_ . It almost doesn’t feel like herself - _I look like Mama right now._ There’s a strange thrill at the notion, an unfamiliar surge of confidence in herself from a simple coat of paint - but she can’t shake the intrusive thought - _If only I could feel like this with needing something as simple and trivial as lipstick…_ But she can’t stop staring at herself, at her lips, so accentuated and pronounced, dark and mysterious, and expertly applied - she feels like the heroine in one of her smut books, girlishly, ravishingly beautiful - the dark red contrasts so uniquely and gorgeously against her sky blue skin, enticing the eyes further, and for once, she doesn’t feel like she has to _imagine_ herself as the inguine, but that she _is_ the inguine - and she feels powerful. 

Essek, for his part, is transfixed in watching her through the mirror - the way he can see her process her appearance, the surprise, to the hesitation, and then the sweet indulgence in the knowledge that she _is_ in fact beautiful, which she most certainly is - and watching her accept that, accept what he and the rest of the world sees, just on an exaggerated scale - _Now that -_ **_that_ ** _is magic._ He finds it so easy to nestle behind her, his head dangerously close to resting on her shoulder - so _easy_ in fact, he finds himself moving that direction subconsciously, chasing the high of being in her orbit. Even in her transfixed state, Jester can’t help but notice his closeness, blushing, and averting her eyes from her lips to the floor for just a moment, not wanting to let Essek see just what his proximity does to her. 

“ _Wow_ …” Jester says quietly, under her breath. “ _Essek -_ you’re so good at makeup!” Jester turns her head to look back to him. 

Essek smiles at her, a little wider than he usually does, in an unpracticed manner, looser, sloppier, but more honest in his happiness at her happiness. “Practice makes perfect, as they say.” 

Jester can’t help herself but to steal a wayward glance at herself in the compact mirror. “It’s funny - I love to paint, and I know that I’m good at it - but I can’t paint my own face for _shit_ . It’s just… an uneven canvas, you know? And getting the clean lines and stuff like that - I can do it on flat surfaces, I suppose, but the face is so… I dunno know. I’ve never been good at it, not like Mama. She tried to teach me, but I could just never pick it up. And, plus, you know - given our, like, ‘ _line of work’_ and all, and all the fighting and killing and guts and gore of battle and all that, makeup is just really impractical. I _really_ don’t know how you do it, Yasha.” Jester looks out to the painted barbarian across from her. 

Yasha flushes slightly at the attention being suddenly thrust on her lap unexpectedly. “Well, part of this is tattooed, but it’s also - it’s something we had in our tribe. It’s warpaint. It doesn’t have to be… ‘pretty’ or ‘perfect’, you know, in the way that most makeup is supposed to be - it’s okay if it gets, you know, a little… _‘fussed up’_. That’s actually welcome - it’s a sign of fighting valiantly.” 

Beau squeezes her hand. “Well, it’s still ‘pretty’ and ‘perfect’, especially if you’re wearing it.” Yasha looks to her girlfriend, and her usual intense stare melts into a soft, adoring gaze, her cheeks growing decidedly redder, complimenting the blue painted on her face. Beau turns her gaze to Jester, her fingers still idly playing with Yasha’s. “It looks good, Jess. You look hot.” 

Jester places her hands on either side of her face, tilting her head back and forth, surveying herself in the mirror further, before scrunching her cheeks together, making a ‘kissy’ face. _“Reallytrulyhonestlythough?”_ She smushes her words together as she smushes her face.

His intense gaze almost boring straight through her, a darker, gravely tone in his voice, Caleb says almost under his breath, “ _Yes.”_

It’s a simple phrase, a single word in its entirety, but the weight and impact of it on Jester hits her like no other - _Caleb -_ **_Cayleb_ ** _\- thinks I look_ **_hot_ ** _?_ An intense wave of endorphins courses through her, blooming in her chest before taking root further down. It’s almost shameful at the rush of unexpected _arousal_ that his voice gives her, it’s low, intense tone doing things to her that she never expected could arise from just a single word. She almost doesn’t know how to respond - _Should I acknowledge it? Did I just hallucinate that and completely make it all up? What do I even say?! Thank you? Yes - yes! Thank you! That’s truthful, that’s real - but what if he didn’t even mean to say it? What if he doesn’t want me to acknowledge him - oh Gods, what if he just said that to placate me? What if he didn’t even mean it?_ Suddenly her joy dampens, souring in her anxiety, and she tries to not let her face betray her current line of thinking. 

“ _Thank you, Cayleb_.” Jester says sheepishly, unable to meet his eyes, tucking her errant locks of hair behind her slightly pointed ears. 

Essek’s head feels delightfully foggy and blissfully clouded thanks to the wine coursing through his veins currently, it’s effects only magnifying as time goes on, but even in his emboldened haze, his training and calculated insightfulness required of him thanks to his position doesn’t fail to pick up on the tinge of doubt staining Jester’s expression - the minute strain of her brow and her sudden fascination with the weave of the rugs on the floor in front of her - he can’t help but pick up on it, a man who makes his living finding and capitalizing on the weaknesses and insecurities of those around him, ample capital for a Master of spies - but everytime he sees it from her, it never gives him that smug, knowing, powerful rush - it never fails to make his wretched heart _ache_ . _Why must I_ **_ache_ ** _for her? Why do I ache from her sadness?_

“Indeed.” Essek says with a smile, prompting her to look one more at him, a slight shocked expression in her lavender eyes at his reaffirming of Caleb’s praise, and he can’t help but feel that ache intensify all the same from that singular, momentary glimpse into her true mental state and conception of herself - _The fact that she’s be shocked that she looks hot, that_ **_I’d_ ** _think she looks hot - how can she not_ **_know_ ** _?_ He almost finds himself wanting to get upset - upset at anyone or anything that would have put that insecurity in her head to begin with, but he knows that will get him nowhere. _Action, action - be a man of action, if but for a moment!_

Essek moves closer behind her, his head now directly next to hers, his pale eyes meeting hers through the mirror. “This is not just any old lipstick, you know.” 

Snapped away from her own internal melancholy, a spark of curiosity ignites in her eyes. “How so?” 

“Well - I told you that I’ve enchanted many things before, yes?” 

Her interest definitely piqued, her previously uncomplicated curiosity takes a turn for the mischievous, fixated on the various romantic and devious implications of such an object. “ _Enchanted_ , you say?” Jester wags her brow suggestively, almost in an overly preformative way, but still deeply endearing. “Does it, like, make people fall in _love_ with you? Does it charm all those who you kiss? Oh! Oh! Oh! Does it, like - _enhance_ someone’s abilities? Like - _seductive abilities_?” 

Essek lets out a small chuckle at her antics. “Well, it does that by simply being worn by you.” He says quickly, off the cuff, causing Jester’s preformed suggestiveness to falter, buckling out from under her for a moment, causing an intense blush to burn on her cheeks, and suddenly, she feels physically too hot for a second. “But no - though that would all be very useful. Alas, it’s just a simple, more practical enchantment, created mainly out of boredom on my part. But I can do this,” Essek takes one of her hands in his, and quickly presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles, all without leaving a single mark or stain to her skin, “without leaving a trace - or,” And mustering up all the stupid courage in his lithe frame, he leans forward, and kisses her right cheek, high on her cheekbones, allowing himself to savor the feeling of her soft skin against his lips, soaking in her pleasant lavender scent, almost nuzzling his nose against her cheek, and drinking in the sweet bliss and and rush of power such a move grants him, and in line with the enchantment of the lipstick in question, wills himself to leave a perfect lipstick mark on her. “- I can leave a mark, if I want to.” 

Shock is definitely a word to describe what Jester is feeling now, at Essek’s bold and flirtatious actions. But also - want, desire, and above all, _arousal_ . Having never quite been in a situation herself where someone so directly makes a _move_ on her, or at least in a way that she _knows_ is a definite move - _Or is it? What if he’s just drunk? I could smell the wine on him - shitmotherbitch. He wouldn’t do this if he wasn’t drunk, would he?_ She can’t help the feelings of doubt unfurling within her, as much as she doesn’t want to believe them - but she also can’t help the sweet, nervous excitement that courses through her regardless. Her eyes meet Essek’s in the hand mirror, and he smirks back at her, and _giggles_ almost, completely unlike she’s ever seen him before, his hand almost reflexively moving up to cover it, in a way that only makes Jester _ache_ even further, just from how _cute_ it is - it almost stuns her more than his kisses, in all honesty, simply because it seems to completely shatter the cool and impassive persona of the Shadowhand of the Dynasty - all from a small, almost girlish giggle - and Jester can’t help but want to hear it again, and again, and again. 

Jester’s head to almost too clouded herself to really process exactly what were the words Essek actually just _said_ to her were, but she takes a moment to try any recall and form a response. Eventually concluding that she expressly _doesn’t_ know how to respond verbally at all, she simply raises her own hand to her mouth trepidatiously, kissing it, seeing the lack of a mark, and then kisses it again, this time willing to leave a mark, marveling at the enchantment. “ _I like it_.” She says softly, almost under her breath. 

“It has its uses.” Essek responds, his gaze more than a little transfixed on the mark of his lips on her cheek. _Gods, how I’d just love to leave other marks on her - just litter her skin with the evidence of my kisses and lovebites - perhaps other marks too, given what she’s apparently also into…_ It takes genuine restraint to not chase after her touch further, to not just simply dive into her and _claim_ like he so desperately wants to - but he finds it within himself to reign that desire in. 

Jester looks at herself in the mirror, and at the perfect lipstick mark on her cheek - _His lips, they’re so…_ **_well defined_ ** _. They’re such a pretty shape._ She can’t help but fixate on them slightly, and try to hide her smile. Breaking her gaze away from her reflection in the mirror, Jester turns her head to look at Essek directly. “Do you have any more of it? Like - any more tubes at home or something? Or maybe, you know, I could commission you?” 

Essek considers the notion, before going back into his pouch and retrieving the lipstick from its pocket-dimensional depths. “Here,” He extends the tube out to Jester, “I have several at home. Far too many, really - my collection may be itself getting out of hand. But… the color suits you.” 

Jester eagerly accepts his gift, her eyes so engrossed and marveling at the beautiful and sleek design of the bullet itself, and of the surprisingly artistically gifted engraving and etching into the polished metal. She smiles, deeply satisfied. “Thank you, Essek!” 

Jester turns her attention to Caleb sitting next to her, flashing him her most brilliant grin, her fangs prominently on display, seeming sharper almost in her delight. Caleb, for his part, can’t help but to have watched onto Jester and Essek’s little interaction with the bitter taste of unwanted jealousy in his mouth, himself fixated on the idea of if it were _him_ showering her face in kisses, leaving marks on her skin, his lips leaving their imprint on her elegant cheekbones - _But not you, never you - you don’t_ **_deserve_ ** _that, you don’t deserve_ **_her_ ** _\- Badmanbadmanbadmanbadman -_ But she turns to him, lipstick stain on her cheeks, her own lips so boldly and beautifully painted and emphasized to an almost unbearably alluring extent, her fangs razor sharp and exciting, and genuine mirth and delight in her soft lavender eyes - and he can’t help but smile in spite of himself, finding joy in her joy, an just simply basking in the radiant glow her happiness gives all blessed enough to merely be in her presence. _I may be a bad man, but I am a luckily man still, just to have her smiling my way._ And he finds a calm to his thoughts, his descending spiral halted in place, before being lifted up and reversed in trajectory - all from a mere smile - all just from her proximity. 

_“Caaaaayleb -_ it’s your turn! _Truth or dare?_ ” Jester asks him in her plotting sing-song manner, her hands idly toying with the lipstick tube as she speaks. 

Caleb considers the matter, trying to not fixate on how hearing his name on her lips brings a blush to his cheeks. “ _Truth._ ” 

Jester’s brows wag excitedly, her inspiration percolating in her mind instantly. “ _Okayokayokayokay_ \- what did you teach me to say in Zeminian, huh?” 

Immediately, Caleb feels the effect of the spell take over his will, the words spilling out from his mouth without a second thought, damned of the consequences or weight they carry. “ **_I want to fuck you senseless_ ** .” He says huskily, his voice an inner reflection of his true will and intent, his true feelings - his _truth_ itself. 

If Jester thought she was blushing before, everything else pales in comparison to the violent burning of her cheeks now, Caleb’s lower, sensually raw and honest voice and words _doing something_ to her entirely, her budding arousal at all previous attentions now at full, wanting bloom - perhaps never before had Jester really considered Caleb capable of actual _sexuality_ , especially in directed towards her - she’s had her fantasies, yes, but fantasies are different from reality, she’s had to learn - and in actuality, the fully realized concept of Caleb expressing sexual desire, especially directed towards _her,_ seemed an impossible reality - but now… Jester can’t help but feel awakened somehow, awakened to the _possibility_ of Caleb in such a way - and she can’t help but find her gut reaction to be eager and enthusiastic _desire_ \- and she finds herself yearning for him in a way greater than mere fantasy. 

Caleb drinks in her sweetly flustered state - the purple-violet flush to her cheeks, her pupils blown wide in shock, but also the faint tinges of _want_ coloring her expressive eyes - her expression shifts from the initial surprise of the words magically compelled from him, to her actual intake and processing of them, and her understanding of the weight they carry directed towards her - and how she averts his eyes sheepishly for a moment, her smile growing wide and brimming with barely contained _swoon_ , as she retracts into herself slightly for a moment, her sexually confident facade flickering for a moment, unable to don that mask in response, resorting to the woman he knows her to be - soft, hesitant, and endearingly unsure - even if for just a moment. Perhaps some darker part of him feels proud of being able to resort her to such a state, though the momentary emotion is fleeting, and quickly replaced with a sudden onset of anxiety and mortification over the words he really _just said_ in front of her, in front of his friends, in front of… _Essek_ … and the mere fact he’s even thinking about the annoyingly handsome Drow in this moment only mortifies him further - because he _knows_ his cover is blown, completely, and _totally_ blown - it’s easy to shift the blame onto the magic which compelled him to do so in the first place, but the way he _said_ it, the barely restrained gravely lust that overtook him in that moment - _You’re fucked, Widogast. You’ve fucked it all up. Royally,_ **_royally_ ** _fucked it all up._

Jester can see Caleb’s eyes glaze over almost, his expression growing distant, in the familiar way she’s come to know represents when his mind begins to unravel at the seams. “ _Caleb?”_ She asks softly, tilting her head slightly to get his attention back to her and out of his own spiral. 

Caleb looks up, for a moment unsure who quite called his name, before seeing Jester - he puts on a practiced smile, and takes a deep, yet shallow breath. “Ja?” 

“Aren’t you going to ask me Truth or Dare?” Jester smiles sweetly at him, batting her eyes in an overexaggerated and playful manner, immediately eating at his heart and lifting his spirits. 

“Oh, ja - um - Frau Lavorre, _Truth_ or _Dare?_ ” He does his best to match her naturally whimsical and coy energy, even though he knows that he could never do it as well as her.

“ _Hmmmmmm…”_ Jester considers the notion for a moment, her hand idly toying with the lipstick tube as she does her own mental math. “... _okayokayokay_ . I’ll match you - _Truth_.” 

Caleb takes a shaky inhale, himself doing the calculus as to what would be the best thing to ask her _\- Anything, you can know anything about her - what do you want to know most from her?_ He can’t help but catch a glimpse of a noticeably more exuberant and… _smiling_ Essek, looking unusually happy, and… _loose_ , in a manner in which Caleb didn’t quite know possible from him, a warm, almost dumb-looking smile plastered on his face, and a pronounced flush to his face - a decidedly intoxicated Essek, who looking stupidly and adoringly entranced with the freckles dusting Jester’s arm. And it’s a striking image, so… _domestic_ , and the simple, uncomplicated interest and fascination in his eyes is so greatly unlike the image of Essek Caleb has in ingrained in his mind, that it’s almost jarring to him - _distracting_ , to say the least, and it pulls his attention from the question at hand in a way that he doesn’t quite like to admit. But he shakes his head slightly, his gaze breaking from the annoying compelling Drow to re-focus on his hand in his lap, gathering and collecting his thoughts for perhaps a moment too long, before returning his gaze to the equally stunning Tiefling in front of him. 

“... What did you have me say in Infernal?” Caleb ponders, more genuinely curious than flirtatious at this point. 

Jester stays quiet for a long moment, not physically compelled by the spell she cast, but still under the compulsion of his question - _Is it hot? Is it hot in here? My face is hot - have my cheeks ever quite_ **_burned_ ** _quite like this?_ Jester has to collect herself for a moment, trying to muster up the courage to actually _say_ the phrase itself in common, her usual confidence and projected bravatas faltering for a second, before clearing her throat, and putting on her most winning grin, and practiced ‘ _seductive_ ’ gaze. “ **_I want you to ravish me all night long_ ** .” Jester sighs dramatically, in an endearingly saccharine and preformative fashion so uniquely ‘ _Jester_ ’. 

Caleb almost doesn’t even know what to feel, initially - her eyes locked with his, her lavender gaze almost an imitation of the posed and simpering heroines on her favorite smut novels, and for a moment, Caleb buys the performance - but then reality hits him, and hits him _hard - She doesn’t mean that, she doesn’t even know what she’s talking about - she would_ **_never_ ** _want that from you, you dirty old man._ He tries to restrain the rush of endorphins that surges through his body at her words, at that sultry look in her eyes, and to restrain the guild he feels for wanting to believe her - but he’s a simple man, a simple man in love, and he can’t help the sweet spike of arousal she gives him, his blood rushing through his veins _down, down and downward_ at the thought of giving in to her words - _But she’s not offering._

Beau, who has been watching these three all night with eagle-like perception, can’t help but pick up on the sexual tension between them - the stolen, fraught, yet intrigued glaces between the seemingly warring arcanists - Caleb’s almost solem, mournful longing - Essek’s nearly alarmingly drunken giddiness, his uncharacteristic chase for touch and physical contact, and the his unabashed and unrestrained quest for Jester’s attention and affection so out in the open and on public display - and then there’s Jester, caught in the middle, and appearing of split-mind towards the two, indulging them both, yet possibly unaware of it all entirely - _She’s the real mystery, here._ There’s a pregnant pause, no one seemingly willing to verbalize a reaction to what Jester’s just said, before Beau decides it’s best to try and cut in herself. 

“You got that from one of your smut books, didn’t you.” Beau smirks knowingly. 

Jester breaks her eye contact from the silently stunned Caleb, and grins toward Beau. “ _Maaaaybe,_ maybe not!” Jester replies in a teasing, sing-song voice. 

“Tusk Love?” Beau offers. 

“No, it was a new one I’ve been reading - it’s called _Across the Seas of Time_.” 

Essek balks for a moment, caught in an instant recognition of the title, and of the contents of the book itself. 

Beau, from across the little circle, immediately clocks Essek’s expression, intrigued herself. “You read it, Theyless?” 

Jester pipes up, “Well ja, he’s the one who _gave_ it to me.” 

Essek feels a strong and instant urge to bury himself in Jester’s shoulder, to hide and cover his face and his inability to control the embarrassed flush blazing across his features. 

Beau cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, you gave her porn?” She pauses, assessing him for any indication, and finds it as his eyes pointedly meet the floor. “ _Okay_.” 

“Well, I mean, technically, I ask for it first, so…” 

Fjord, who has mostly been keeping quiet and absentmindedly only half listening to the whole conversation, now interjects, his mind not following. “When did you have the chance to give Jester porn?” 

Two fingers go directly to Essek’s temples, and start rubbing slow, deep circles to try and ease his nerves. “It’s not _porn_ , it’s a well written story that has occasional _scenes_ , but it’s very poignant and heart-wrenching, and has a very complex, tasteful, and intricate _plot_ , as Jester can very well attend to, it is not some tawdry two copper piece of _porn_ , thank you very much.”

Beau side-eyes Essek’s defensiveness. “Hey - porn can have good plot and still be porn.” 

Jester nods. “That is true, in fact, that’s really the best part of the porn, you know - it gives the sex meaning and _impact_ and all - but anyways, it’s actually really good though.” 

Fjord’s gaze looks slightly distant and confused. “But I’m just still not tracking, you know, when exactly you had time to _give_ Jester the porn, because I don’t remember anytime you two were particularly _alone_ together - but perhaps I’m just not paying attention, I suppose.” 

Essek physically freezes in place, his eyes reading of a man being caught - a look he normally is able to curtail and mask with his practiced social illusions, but with his consistent efforts to drain the wine bottle in front of him for all it’s worth, his better social graces and sense of control of over himself and the version of himself his broadcasts out to the world all but slips from his fingertips as he tries to come up with an answer to Fjord’s question without arousing suspicion further. 

Caleb crosses his arms, which Essek must frustratingly admit are toned in a distracting manner, and looks at Essek with this deeply penetrating and imploring gaze, a challenge in his stormy eyes, almost daring him to answer truthfully. It’s overwhelming, the weight and heat of his gaze - it sends a chill down his spine that surprises him, and, shamefully, a bolt of arousal down to his core that he does his best to ignore. He reaches for the bottle one more time, and takes a guilty swig, before sighing slightly. 

“I did not seek Jester out to give her _porn_ , if that is what you are asking, Fjord.” Essek dances around the subject in the most artful way he can currently manage. 

“Ja, I mean, it kind of just happened, you know?” Jester says casually. 

The rest of the room looks amongst each other rather taken aback at Jester’s wording and the sudden turn this conversation has taken, and Essek panics for a moment, and puts his hands up slightly in a defensive manner. 

“ _Look_ , Jester paid me a visit, I taught her some magic as I have taught Mr. Widogast here, and, while in my study, this book in particular caught Jester’s eye, and I lent her the book. There - does that clear things up for everyone?” Essek’s glance flickers to Caleb for a moment, bearing the naked truth out in front of him to judge as he sees fit. 

“Yes - and there was pastries too!” Jester re-focuses attention back to the truly important things. 

Veth shoots a saucy look towards Jester. “ _Jester_ , you were alone in Essek’s _tower_ ? And he brought you _pastries?”_ She gives her a knowing, smug look, wagging her brows, deeply intrigued at this juicy bit of information. 

Jester flashes Veth one of her brilliant smiles, her brows wagging in time with her halfing friend, confirming her suspicions. “ _Yessssss…”_

Veth leans back in her beanbag, deeply satisfied. “I’ll let my imagination run wild.”

The bottle of wine in front of Essek is only a quarter empty - _Luxon help me… I’m going to need to finish that off for this conversation._ Essek takes a long drink, before putting up his finger in an attempt at an authoritative stance, though there is a definite _sway_ in the movement that portrays his increasingly pronounced drunken nature, and addressing the matter with the added benefits of the liquid courage now resting cradled against his chest. “I urge you…” Essek almost trails off for a moment, his head fuzzy and soft, unable to orate with his usual gravatas and self-assuredness, “... _toooo_ not. I entertained Jester in my parlor like a _gentleman_ -” Essek cradles the wine bottle further in his grasp, puffing his chest up in a overly dramatic manner, his tone verging on almost performative, “- and, I taught her a _uuuuseful_ dunamantic spell in a manner best suited to her _talents_ .” He finishes his statement in a manner his inebriated brain _thinks_ sound dignified and confident, but in sober actuality, sounds deeply actorish and boozily dramaturgic. 

Beau cocks her brow slightly at Essek. “ _Okay_ , sure - but where does the porn fit into all this?” 

“It’s not -” Essek lets out an exasperated sigh, his cheeks burning like a motherfucker, “- _it’s not_ **_porn_** , _Beauregard_ , it’s a novel that has _scenes_ , and it is incredibly tasteful and well crafted, and an excellent read boot, and deeply not _porn_ , for Luxon’s sake!” 

Beau gives him an odd look towards his defensiveness. “Okay, but like we’ve said, porn can be _‘incredibly tasteful and well crafted’_ too - back me up on this Jess.” She turns to Jester. 

Jester giggles slightly, finding the worked up Essek very cute in his exasperation. “It’s true - the _best_ porn is the porn with a lot of plot, you know - it just… the build-up, the tension, the restraint and stakes and all of that - _that’s_ what makes it sexy, you know? I mean, you can totally have porn without all that, and it can still be good and all - but it’s just not the same, you know?” Jester shoots Essek a teasing smile. “And you gave me the _good_ porn, _Esssssek_ ~” She winks at him, finding his sputtering and stunned expression deeply entertaining. Essek pointedly doesn’t answer her, stunned into inaction, left soaking up the delicious aftershocks of what a winking Jester Lavorre does to his system. 

Caleb, who does his best to restrain the jealousy in his tone, clears his throat and interjects. “Ja, I think the literary legitimacy of porn has been well established here - now, shall we continue with our little game and drop this subject perhaps?” 

The tension in Caleb’s crossed arms is not missed by Essek even in his own mounting stupor, and the definition in the muscles of his forearms which grabs Essek’s attention and leeches onto his focus in a way that even alarms himself, charmed by the slight smattering on soft, downy red hair that covers them, uniquely human and unlike the usual Drow he commonly encounters - _It just looks so…_ **_soft_ ** _…_ He loses his train of thought for a moment, completely lost in the idea of petting Caleb’s arms as one would a furry creature, his mind caught up in an indulgent scenario of just simply _petting_ Caleb all over, his mind drifting toward imaging what other hair this strange human might sport - before physically shaking his head, clearing his mind, and nodding in agreement. “Yes, yes -let us move on!” Essek raises the bottle in his hand in the air in a large gesture very unlike his usual subtle restraint in movement. 

Jester observes Essek, and his increasing boldness and slight slur and sway in his motions and speech, and is struck by how oddly adorable it is, and yet, slightly worrying as well - _He must be_ **_really_ ** _drunk…_ “Yes, yes - anyways, Veth - _Truth or Dare?_ ” 

They make their way around the circle, each person engaging in their own form of shenanigans as they embarrass and delight the group in laughter, until reaching Essek once more. By this time, the bottle of wine is empty, and Essek’s drunkenness has only increased adn magnified with time, along with a very uncharacteristic giggliness and smiliness. As Jester turns her attention toward him, he can’t help but giggle slightly at the mischief in her eyes, and lean closer towards her, his usual restrained urge for touch magnified with alcohol. Jester almost doesn’t know how to respond or interpret this version of Essek - she finds it amusing, as drunk people often are, and certainly doesn't mind seeing a smile send his handsome features alight, and _especially_ doesn’t mind his increasing casual physicality and touch towards her - _No, I_ **_really_ ** _don’t mind that… and that might just be the problem._ Everytime his fingers brush haphazardly against hers, every casual lean towards her, the gentle graze of his finely manicured nails against the tips of her knees… something deep within herself begins to stir, warmth rushing through her and moving south, south - but when his eyes lock with hers, and he lets out that soft, sweet, almost girlish giggle of his, so free and uninhibited by the conventions he puts upon himself and the decorum of a man of power and position - something clicks in her mind, and suddenly, breathlessly, and irrevocably, the world begins to make sense and yet none at all - _Oh no._ **_Oh no._ ** _I think I like him. Like -_ **_like like_ ** _him - Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

This revelation stunning her into silence for a moment, she almost forgets the little game they’re playing, missing her cue, before forcing herself to break away from his magnetizing stare, centering her gaze on the floor for a moment and clearing her throat slightly as she tries to hide her current state of internal frenzy, masking her true feelings as she is so painfully well acquainted with. When she meets Essek’s eyes once more, she dons a sweet rehearsed smile, and asks him the deceptively simple question. “ _Esssssek ~ Truth, or Dare?”_

Essek can’t help the tugging at his heartstrings every single time she says his name in the drawn out sing-song manner of hers, finding himself smiling dumbly back towards her, almost not even registering the actual question asked of him past his own name on her lips. So, without much forethought into the matter, he responds. “Hmmmm… Truth. Yes, why not truth? _Suuuuuure._ ” 

Jester thinks over her options - _Do you like me? Do you_ ** _like like_** _me? Are you even single? … Do you even like girls?_ Jester has a moment of internal panic as she realizes just how much she doesn’t actually know about Essek’s personal life and taste, and spirals momentarily on the prospect of him not even being _able_ to return her… _interest_ \- and she can’t help but fixate on all of the heated stares Essek has exchanged with Caleb throughout the evening, and in all honesty, throughout their entire time knowing him, and the _interest_ displayed between the two wizards, even if _contemptuous_ interest at times - and she feels the icy cold grip of dejection and the beginning stages of heartbreak begin to fester within her. She has half a mind to just ask him outright and get an honest answer out of him - _Do you like Caleb? … Could you ever… like me?_ _No, no - no, this isn’t the right way to ask, not in front of everyone, not out in the public, not now… shit, shit, shit - what should I ask him?_ For a moment, Jester panics, unsure of what to even ask him at all, before returning to an old intrusive thought of hers, finally given the opportunity to get an honest answer. 

sing

“ _Soooooooo_ , basically, we know that members of the Dynasty had scried on us, right? Fjord saw that little orb thingy, and remember, the first time you came here for dinner, you said that, like, _I dunno_ , the higher ups, I suppose? At the Bright Queen’s orders at times? To scry on us? Right? _Sooooooo_ \- who did you scry on? Like which one of us did you scry on when you did it? Who did you scry on the _most_ ? Were you being honest when you said that you’ve never, like, caught us when we were _‘indisposeeeed’?_ Or did you just always scry on the Xhorhaus?” She asks in her usual rapid fire manner. 

Essek does his best to absorb all of the questions asked of him, and finds the magically influence of the spell almost sputter within him, unsure of which question would be regarded as the one in which to compel him magically to answer, and for a moment, he finds himself deeply fascinated by the magic coursing through him at the current moment _\- It’s amazing, the spell is working to force me to answer_ **_all_ ** _of the questions, even though they do not fall under the guise of one ‘truth’ or one ‘dare’ - it’s incredibly powerful given the original limitations set upon the design of the spell - this warrants further study._ “Jester, your spell is very powerful, you should know that - I’m proud of you.” He admits in an off the cuff manner, almost unthinking in his casual praise. Jester can’t help but keen inwardly at the praise, unknowing of her own want and desire to hear those words fall from his painted lips.

Essek clears his throat, and nods his heads, allowing the spell to fully take him. “Right, so - many questions, yes?” He chuckles lightly. “Given the nature of my… _position_ , or rather _title_ here in the Dynasty, it is… frankly my _job_ to commit and organize surveillance and intelligence against possible threats to our nation. And, especially at first, we weren’t all convinced that the group of you weren’t all secretly a group of very brash Dwendalian agents. So, I confess, as I was… deeply _suspicious_ , as is my job to be so, I and a group of my own agents took it upon ourselves to conduct our own surveillance. It was my idea to give you all the titular and rather charmingly named ‘Xhorhaus’ - both as an act which would hopefully display some element of willingness to work with you, but also admittedly to hopefully endear and sway you to our side, were you susceptible to being swayed. But, it also had the added benefit of allowing us to have a consistent place to scry on and monitor you all.” 

The room is quiet for a moment, allowing his confession to sink in, before he continues. “Though, we did attempt to scry on each of you individually, I do admit - mainly to figure out each of your own… _inherent resistance_ , one could say, so divinatory magics. It didn’t really work as well, or anywhere near as reliably, as is the nature of scrying on individuals versus static locations. We could never scry of Mr. Widogast here,” Essek gestures toward Caleb, meeting his eyes for a tense moment, before breaking away, “nor Caduceus,” Essek gestures toward the friendly Firbolg, “or you, Jester.” He meets her eyes reassuringly, the tips of his manicured fingertips brushing against the back of her hands, his touch fleeting and for but a moment, but lingering just ever so. “Your ‘ _will_ ’ so to say could not be broken.” Jester nods slightly, unsure of exactly if she should be flattered, relieved, or creeped out by this news. “And scrying on Miss Beauregard here proved… _inconsistent_ , you could say.” Beau squares her shoulders, her chest puffing up slightly as he speaks. “For the most part, if the ‘ _higher ups_ ’ so to speak requested surveillance, and it was established you all were not home, and thus necessitated scrying on an individual, we would rely on Yasha primarily, but, when she…” Essek stops himself, recognizing the touchy subject he’s treading in, “... was not available, we usually would scry on Fjord.” 

Fjord looks slightly surprised at this revelation, his eyes going a little wide. “ _Me?”_ Essek nods, shrugging his shoulders. “Well. Huh. That’s slightly concerning.” 

Essek sighs, retreating slightly into his beanbag. “Please understand - we were _actively_ in wartime, and when a strange and previously unknown rag-tag group of eclectic mercenary-sellsword-adventurer or whatever label you put it - when a group such as yourself walks into the Lucid Baston, asking for a favor of our Queen, in front of the entire Court, even though you _had_ done us a great good, clad in some very… _eccentric_ leathers -” Essek blushes slightly at the reccolition of seeing Caleb in the fetish gear he wore when they had first met, pointedly avoid his gaze, “- and then proceed to admit ties to the nation we are at war with - _and_ , then, puzzlingly, in a story that I still don’t quite understand the specifics of myself, proceed to produce a sacred religious artifact from your bubblegum pink haversack - which, admittedly, I had personally been working to ensure would have never _returned_ here to the Dynasty, surely not under the conditions in which it all played out - anyways, I’m rambling, this wine is _very_ good, Beauregard.” Essek turns to face the prickly monk, his own mental train of though quickly devolving thanks to the bottle in his hands, 

“I can tell.” Beau quips at him, almost under her breath, but a definite smirk present on her face and in her tone. 

“Anyways, suffice to say - there was still a prevailing belief that you all were Dwendalian agents, possibly a group of very bold scourgers with _unusual_ tactics to say the least - genuinely, it came from a place of national security, I hope you realize. I was doing as my Queen commanded, and not - I was not - I would never - I’m not a common _creep_ -” 

“ _Well…_ ” Beau interjects. 

Essek squares his jaw, his chin tilting up slightly as he sits much straighter up in his seat. “Not so much as is inherent to the nature of my work - but even then, I _personally_ have my own limits. I may…” Essek takes a deep breath, desperating trying to reign in his own ego, sense of self preservation, and greater urge to lash out at having this aspect of his character called into question. “... _take liberties_ , when there is a greater cause and powers at play, but even then - there are certain _unsavory_ activities that I will not partake in. There is a line I shall not cross. There are those in my profession who see fit to exploit these _tactics_ -” Essek notices Caleb’s nails digging into the uniquely scarred flesh of his forearms, how his nose scrunches up slightly, and his own gaze trained on the ground, and Essek catalogues this reaction for a later time. “- but I find it abhorrent, and unnecessary.” Essek takes a deep breath and tries his best to focus on his following words. “Cruelty can be a weapon. I will admit, I am not one shies away from wielding it _when necessary_ . However, _excessive_ cruelty pushes past it’s usefulness. I am not, nor have ever claimed to be a _paragon_ of moral virtue - but as I said, I have my limits.” There’s a pointed pause, which forces Essek to sit with his words, a brief moment of introspection he rarely ever is made to confront. 

_Fuck. I - I sound…_ For a moment, Essek feels the burbiling bile of mortification bubble in his throat at his own realization. _What do I sound like to her?_ Essek almost doesn’t want to look at Jester, and be forced to confront the man she sees in front of her. _Gods, she must hate me -_ **_fuck_ ** _, she must think I’m a maniac - fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck damagecontroldamagecontrol -_

Essek musters up his nerve turning towards Jester, and face her reaction to his words. Jester’s expression is… difficult to interpret, and Essek makes his living in this sort of thing. He can tell by the faint slump in her shoulders that she’s disappointed, but he can’t gauge to what degree. Her eyes are trained towards her hands in her lap, his fingers worrying away in the fabric of her dress. He can tell there’s confliction in her lavender hues, and he tries his damnedest to at least that as a mildly optimistic sign, that she doesn’t _outright_ hate him - _But what a hollow victory that is_ . “So,” Essek looks towards Jester’s eyes, a softer, slightly apologetic expression on his features, “to answer part of that _Truth_ , Jester - _yes_ , I was being honest when I said that I’ve never scried on anyone while they were _‘naaaaked’_ as you had first put it to me. That is part of a line I do not wish to cross.” Essek does his best to recreate Jester’s playful delivery, taking a little joy in the slight smile that crosses her enchanting features at his attempt at _Jester-isms_.

Beau squints at Essek, letting out a tense exhale. “So you’re okay with completely invading our privacy and trust, but draw the line at nudity? I’m just trying to work out the internal logic here.” 

Essek takes a long inhale, and lifts the bottle in his hand up as to drink from it, but feels a deep sadness at it’s emptiness, and so instead, lets out a shaky exhale, attempting to gather his thoughts in a coherent manner. “I do what is necessary for the grand scheme of things… this doesn’t always mean acting _morally_ , or even having a moral _cause_ behind my actions - but so long as they further what is ultimately in the best interest of myself, or, in most cases, the best interest for the survival of my homeland… I am willing to do what is necessary, _mostly -_ and I do draw the line at invading privacy in that manner, yes.” Essek can feel the weight of the fuzziness in his head begin to multiply exponentially in the way alcohol tends to do with him, the once giggly and indulgent bliss leddinging, constricting around him depressively, and he’s reminded of that low extremis in the belly of the Balleater, with Caleb’s iron shackles around his wrists, as he divulged his own philosophy and truth to let him “ _see the sun rise_ ”. _This is why I don’t drink._ But that initial melancholy at the memory gives way for the bitter taste of prideful snideness, as the lack of better judgement in this state gets the better of him, and he can’t help his looseness of tongue as he jabs, “And I am not alone -” Essek turns his gaze towards Beau, “I am sure the Cobalt Soul shares in my beliefs, _Expositor_.”

Beau’s nostrils flare, her breathing turning shallow as her muscles tense, gearing up for a fight. Yasha grabs a hold of Beau’s hand, and shoots her girlfriend a pleading look. 

Jester shakes her head. “ **_Yellow_ **.” She says in her strongest voice, commanding the attention of the room with a single word. Everyone looks at her rather perplexed at the weight and forcefulness of her seemingly random word, save for Essek, who immediately recognizes the term, though still looking a little confused and perhaps even shocked at her usage outside in this context. “I know we didn’t actually say that we were all using the trafficlight system, but I’m implementing it now.” She said very self-assuredly, in a tone that cannot be argued with. “This conversation has good intentions, but is heading in a direction I don’t think any of us really like. And we need to talk this out like adults, you guys.” 

Jester turns towards Essek, and looks him in his eyes - she can see the panic in them at her sudden seizure of control of the conversation, and the fear of what she’s about to say - _Please,_ **_please_ ** _worry because you care about us, care about me - and not simply for your own hide, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_ . “Essek - it’s admittedly a little creepy knowing that you spied on us.” She confesses. “I know you had your reasons - and they’re _valid_ reasons. And - _to be fair_ \- I mean, technically, I’ve spied on a _loooooot_ of people myself with the same spell, so you know… maybe I’m a little creepy too.” She looks down at her hands, a little embarrassed at her own insight. “It’s kind of… you know… inherent in the mechanics of the spell, the ‘invasion of privacy’ - a lot of magic is like that, honesty - it can be used for a lot of good, and I try to use my magic for what’s good, though I don’t always succeed - and we don’t always do what _‘moralllll’_ \- I mean, remember when we all accidentally stole a ship and became pirates? That wasn’t very moral of us.” 

“You were pirates?” Essek asked confusedly, genuinely a little shocked at this revelation. 

“ _Oh, Eeeeessek -_ yeah, we were pirates. For a time. Accidentally. We didn’t really want to, but we were kind of forced into it by this lady - _anyways_ , I’ll tell you about it later, that’s besides the point - what I’m trying to say is that we don’t necessarily have the moral high ground, okay? We try to, and want to do our best to do what we think is best for us and the world around us - and we fuck up. Perhaps not on the same scale,” Jester shoots a glance at Essek, before turning to look at Beau, “but we have our lapses in judgement. _And,_ ” Jester turns her attention back towards Essek, “it was an invasion of our privacy, and a breach of trust. It can be both.”

Caleb, who’s been doing his best to absorb the arguments being made in front of him and keep his comments to himself, perks his head up from his downwards stare at his scar-laden forearms, and looks towards Jester with a conflicted expression. “You are very wise, Jester.” He admits. “It’s as you said - it’s the breach of trust. It’s just -” He takes a deep breath, and looks towards the handsome drow in front of him, catching the unsure and vulnerable expression on his face, “- it’s hard to look past. That’s all.” 

Essek meets Caleb’s gaze, and for a long, protracted moment of intense eye contact, Essek’s pretenses crumble out beneath him, and the long buried ache deep within his bones rises to the surface, as he feels the beginnings of tears prick at his eyes in what feels like the first time in _years_ \- _Damn him. Damn you, Caleb Widogast -_ **_damn you_ ** _\- I shouldn’t feel like this, why do you make me_ **_feel_ ** _like this!_ Essek breaks his gaze, slowly curling himself inwards, drawing his knees under his chin in a display of physical vulnerability deeply unlike how he usually ensures he carries himself. “ _I don’t know what to do._ ” Essek confides in a small voice. 

Jester’s heart breaks at the sight of Essek reduced to such a state like this. She takes his hand in hers, brushing her thumb against the back of his knuckles. _“Essek_ …” She says softly. 

Essek stills slightly at her comfort, a deep pang of guilt resonating within his gut. “I don’t know what to do, because - I don’t know what I can do to make you trust me again.” He confides, drawing upon a place of honesty within himself he hasn’t drawn upon in a long time - _Why… why do I want to cry when I tell the truth? Am I just drunk? Fuck…_

He can feel his throat constrict around itself, emotion clogging his airway as those tears burning at the corners of his eyes continue making threats, and he feels shame, genuine, hard-earned _shame_ hit him like a wayward truck hard in his gut - he almost doesn’t want to do his burgeoning tears the dignity of being blotted away in a public fashion - and that _fear_ , that _pridefulness_ , that _vainity_ at the prospect of _crying_ \- the guttural, _instinctual_ self-preservationist instinct only tightens the proverbial noose around his neck, further proof to himself and those around him of the flaws in his character. _But my mascara will run_ … the small voice says within his head - and so he reigns it in, commanding the tears to not fall, to not ruin the image he’s meticulously crafted for himself any more than he already has. 

Essek takes a steadying breath, before he shoots Jester a nervous glance. “ _But_ …” He tries not will his bottom lip to not quiver as he gazes upon Jester’s open, warm, and _empathetic_ visage - _I don’t deserve it, how can she look at a…_ ** _villain_** _like me like that? Like I… like I deserve… like I deserve her?_ “I **_want_** to do it - whatever it is, whatever I can do - **_I’ll do it_**.” It feels like a confessional, yet almost sinful against his nature to even admit - its feeling, real, brutal, _feeling_ , which could easily earn him a dagger in his back in his line of work, but its the truth - and it scares him in its honesty. 

Jester knows when people need hugs - it’s one of her talents. And she knows that right now, in this moment - Essek _really_ needs a hug. So she gives him one. She nearly tackles him in his beanbag, wrapping her arms around his cocooned form - and like the first time he accepted his touch when he gave her this house, he simply lets it happen, allowing himself to be held. “ _Oh, Jester…”_ He whispers under his breath, barely audible. 

“ _Well…”_ Jester sighs into him, before pulling back slightly, but still holding him, brushing his hair out of his face. “... you can start by always giving me pastries. Always. Whenever I ask, okay?” She smiles towards him, half joking, half deadly serious. 

“ _I’ll see what I can do._ ” Essek says, muffled into his knees.

Yasha, used to being the silent one in conversation, decides to finally speak. “I know what it can feel like - to feel like you’ve betrayed those you hold dear - and to not ever know how you can be forgiven. Or allow those you… _love..._ to trust you again.” Yasha confides, looking her wonderful girlfriend in the eyes, the long buried guilt nestled in the scar she bears between the valley of her breasts haunting her gaze. Beau softens, pressing a soft kiss on her partner's knuckles. “Give it some time.” Yasha advises sagely. “Time… it doesn’t heal all wounds - but it allows them to scar - and that’s much better than a bleeding gash.” 

“Yeah, and just - try not to do evil.” Veth quips. 

“Yes, no more _eeeeeevil_ for _you_ , Mister.” Jester playfully boops Essek on his nose. 

Essek should feel mortified at being _booped_ on his _nose_ , of _all things_ \- but it feels _good_ , so _soft_ , so _warm - She makes me feel like I’m burning, just from the simplest of actions._

“ _No more evil_.” Essek can’t help but smile at the notion, at the appeal of it. 

“I _meeeean -_ you know, within reason and all - you’re like, _what_ , a _Maaaaster of Spies_ , or something? You have to do a _liiiiittle_ evil. Just a little bit. But not too much! You know, like the Traveler always says - _balance_ and all that. So, you have to do a little evil or whatever, you know, _job requirements_ and all that, and then you do some good! Like, bring me pastries! Bearclaws! Teach us some magic! Or, you know, bamfing us is always good - that has to outweigh some of the bad - helping us do good and all - and maybe, you know, who knows, maybe you’ll join us in actually doing some good!” Jester looks to him excitedly, her eagerness infectious.

“Something like that.” Essek smiles softly, her energy seeping into the cracks in his icy exterior. He lifts his head from it’s nest in his gathered knees, and looks towards the monk directly across from him. “And… Beau -” She turns her gaze from Yasha to him with a cocked brow, still apprehensive towards him, “... I buried it.” She squints her gaze dissernedly. “The Dynasty is... _unaware_ of your affiliation with the Cobalt Soul. I made it so.” 

“Why?” She asks him plainly. 

“... If they knew, if they had found out - especially in wartime, given the political situation - the Bright Queen would have ordered your execution.” The room goes silent for a moment as the weight of the words begins to sink in. “And… I… I wanted you all still around. I - I would have been… I would have been very sad to see you all meet such a fate. I - I wanted - I _still want_ \- I want you all in my life.” 

Jester’s arms still around him squeeze him tighter, almost to the point of discomfort, and Essek marvels for a moment at just how _strong_ she is. “See! You are _capable_ of _good_ , Essek - you’ve already done it!” 

Essek _melts_ , just _melts_ into her words, into her affirmations, into her touch, and into her _warmth_ , and simply allows himself to accept the world as she sets in front of him - a world where he is capable of good. “ _Thank you, Jester._ ” He says softly. She lets go of the hug, and he finds himself chasing after her touch, selfishly wanting more, wanting to keep her there, and to allow himself to _burn_ within her grasp. 

But, instead, he sighs dramatically, allowing himself at least one physical act of catharsis, flopping back in his bean bag chair in a very ungainly manner, the last of his decorum cast out from his body. “Oh, it is late - and this bean bag is _surprisingly_ comfortable.” He nestles himself into the sack, smearing some of his makeup in the process, but past the point of caring. 

“You drank the _entire_ bottle of wine, didn’t you?” Jester observes. 

“ _Maaaaaybe_.” Essek responds, muffled slightly by the bean bag. 

“You need to get to sleep, Essek.” Jester moves to get him to sit up, pulling him from his nestled nook. 

Essek makes sounds of protest, but eventually relents, moving to stand up with Jester’s help, but bowing and swaying as he attempts to actually walk. “ _Ooooooh, very spinny.”_ He leans onto Jester’s form, the floor spinning beneath him. 

“You’re in _no_ state to walk yourself home, Essek. You’re sleeping here tonight.” 

“S’fine - I can just teleport myself to my bed.” 

“ _No, no, no you’re not_ \- remember the time you teleported us directly into a mountain? You are not operating heavy magic under the influence, _Mister_.” Jester reasons. 

“I can crash in Yasha’s room tonight.” Beau smirks. “Would have ended up there eventually.” 

The circle begins to dissolve, as the various members of the Mighty Nein say their goodnights and head to bed. 

It pains Caleb to see Jester leading Essek to her bedroom - he hates to admit that, to recognize it, and he _hates_ the bitterness of it, how he longingly imagines her doing the same with him - or, perhaps an even more shameful fantasy, himself and Essek… the intrusive image prompts action in him, perhaps selfish action at its core - but he can’t just let her _leave_ , he needs to do _something_ -

But, before he leaves the room proper, Caleb goes over to Jester as she’s leading a swaying Essek towards her room. “ _Goodnight_ , Jester.” 

“ _Goodnight_ , Caleb.” Jester giving him a parting smile.

“But - before you head to bed -” Caleb bends down so his mouth is right next to her ear, the proximity sending sweet, blissful shivers down her spine, taken aback by his boldness. “- if he… you can send me a message, anytime of the night, and I’ll be right there. And - remember what I said - you could knock this guy’s block off.” 

Jester chuckles slightly at the memory. “I’ll be fine, Caleb. But thank you.” 

Caleb allows himself to be bold, and shoots his shot, pressing a quick, soft kiss on the top of her had, right by the base of her horns, adrenaline surging through his veins as he allows himself to be selfish and take what he wants, for once - her touch, her presence - her _warmth._ “ _Go to sleep, blueberry.”_ And, avoiding her eyes, flustered even by his own actions, he _quickly_ walks away, towards his own room. 

  
Jester stands there in the doorframe, stunned, blushing a storm up, left with a deep sense of _wanting_ within her - _wanting_ for _Caleb_ , _wanting_ for his kisses, his rare, _rare_ touch - and she can’t square it, her want for Caleb, her _desire_ for Caleb, and the heady bliss of the handsome Drow man draped around her shoulders, her _want_ and _desire_ for Essek **_and_ ** Caleb, all at once, all together - without sense, without reason, and without a clear path forward - just _wanting_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine that, me updating this fic! Whelp, here it is - just note, chapters for this work tend to take a lot of work and tend to be longer as well, so they end up taking longer to produce - but, I hope that the wait was worth it for you! This is a very Jessek focused chapter, with just a dollop and good old Shadowgast pining thrown in for good measure. I hope you enjoy it!

Essek has  _ observed _ from time to time just how toned Jester’s arms are, and the strong biceps she wields - but he never truly  _ appreciated _ just  _ how _ strong those arms are, until they’re the only thing keeping him standing up straight. It’s surprising, coming from her rather petite frame in comparison to his, and almost comical how high her arm slung around his shoulder is, his frame hunching over to try and accommodate the sheer height difference between the two of them as they hobble down the halls toward Jester’s room - he can’t help but laugh at their movements, but in all actuality, he more so like giggles like a schoolgirl - something Jester herself finds deeply endearing. 

“Essek, you have a good laugh, you know?” Jester turns her head slightly to look at the drunk man she’s currently attempting to escort to her room to flash him a smile. 

“ _ Really? _ ” Essek laughs at the concept entirely. 

“Ja - it’s nice to see you actually enjoying yourself, you know? You’re always so…  _ reigned in _ \- but it’s nice to see you let go of all that.” Jester admits, half dragging his body towards her door, now blessedly in view. She huffs slightly at the exertion, his weight on her beginning to cause strain, pausing momentarily to adjust her grasp on his shoulders.  _ “Though, next time I’d prefer if I can see you laugh without needing a bottle of wine to get there.” _ She always whispers under her breath, thinking aloud.

When they reach Jester’s room, she does a brief flourish with her right hand, and casts Thamaguargy, opening the door and leading Essek inside. “Okay okay okay okay - there you go, there you go.” Jester leads Essek to Beau’s bed, depositing the swaying Drow sitting on the mattress. Softly, gently, almost weakly, a small hiccup bursts forth from Essek’s chest. He makes a pouting face, suddenly looking deeply upset at his bodily outburst. Jester cups the side of his face, rubbing her thumb against his cheek. “ _ Oh, Essek _ …” Jester coos, a mixture of genuine concern and fawning sweetness spreading through her at his current state, “ _ you need to get to bed _ .” She says with a strong yet gentle sense of authority, squeezing his hand as she does so. 

Essek hiccups once more, and groans, leaning into her hands, almost nuzzling them. “ _ Dontwanna.”  _ He mumbles.  _ No, no sleep - I want more of  _ **_this_ ** _ , I need more of  _ **_this_ ** _ , her hands, her touch - I can’t sleep. No.  _

Jester sighs. “I don’t want to hear it - you need to sleep and sober up. Okay?” 

Essek hiccups one more time, and gives a large, over-exaggerated groan, flopping back onto the bed, groaning into the pillow, before turning back over to face her. “Why must you be  _ right _ , Jester?” 

Jester’s expression softens. “ _ Because _ \- I have lots of experience dealing with drunk people - and I just know things. 

Essek cocks a curious brow. “Lots of experience?” He hiccups once more. 

“Ja - there was a bar where I grew up.” 

“What do you mean?

“At the Lavish Chateau -” Jester pauses for a moment, realizing that she’s never actually told Essek anything about her upbringing. “- it’s a hotel in Nicodranas - the best hotel around you know, very posh and high class and all that. But there’s a restaurant and bar on the ground floor, and there was always a bunch of rowdy drunks causing a ruckus - really turned me off to the whole getting drunk thing.” 

“That... makes sense - s’that’s very smart of you,  _ Mademoiselle _ Lavorre, very smart and wise of you, unlike myself, very wise indeed…” Essek rambles off, his speech beginning to become more pronouncedly slurred the further he goes on. 

Jester nods in agreement. “I always make the smartest decisions, that is true.” Jester pauses slightly, and takes in the sight of the drunk Drow currently nestled deep within the fluffy recesses of Beau’s bed. “Essek, you really should not sleep in those clothes - you’ll crush the velvet - and you really should not sleep with your makeup on, you’ll ruin your eyesight that way!” Jester physically pulls his protesting form from the pillow, fighting him through his groans at being wrenched from the warmth of the downy comforter. 

“ _ Nooooooo _ \- but it’s so comfy here, I’m fine, I’m so fine, I’m good I swear -” Essek babbles almost under his breath at this point, attempting to nest further into the mattress, but finds own strength no match for Jester’s impressive grip. 

“ _ Essek Theyless _ , you will stop fighting me for one second! At least get rid of the velvet overgown so I can hang it up for you -” 

Essek finally goes slack in her grip, sighing, sitting up, and resignedly begins to take off his belt, looking Jester in the eyes the entire time, a sudden, slow roiling  _ hunger _ in his eyes. Jester blushes, suddenly coming to the realization -  _ Fuck, he’s looking at me like that, stripping, in bed -  _ **_fuck!_ ** Jester feels a momentary embarrassment at what she’s asking of him, and at the  _ strong _ reaction his gaze is elicits from her - and the sadness at the realization of just how drunk he really is.  _ Don’t look at me like that when you don’t mean it - when you  _ **_can’t_ ** _ mean it.  _

Essek tries his best to be smooth, to be the suave, charismatic, and confident persona he puts on, and to take off his belt with his very drunken imagining of what he deems in this moment to be machismo, not necessarily the succeeding in his performance per se, his hands sloppy and missing the actual belt itself at times - but he takes pride in the blush dusting over Jester’s cheeks. He sheds himself of the armorial chest piece and it’s clasps, followed by his overgown, which Jester both takes, placing the armor piece on the desk, and begins hanging up the velvet overgown. 

Essek begins trying to undo the numerous amounts of laces holding up the hosen, but finds his dexterity slipping from him in his current state, and lets out a frustrated sigh. 

The overgown hung up, Jester hears his sounds of distress, and heads back his way. “Here, let me help you, Essek.” Jester reaches for the multiple lacing holding his doublet to hosen, and for a moment, she’s reminded fondly of Molly, and his own strangely patterned and colored hosen, and the way he would always struggle at the end of the night with all of the laces - and the few times in camps he would ask for her help getting all the knots out. They’re fond memories, tinged with sadness, the grief still attached to even the simplest moments of domesticity - but she does her best to not show any of that to Essek.  _ He doesn’t need that right now _ . 

Almost under his breath, his own train of thought escaping though his mouth, Essek mutters, “ _ This is not how I had imagined having you undress me. _ ” 

Jester’s blush furiously intensifies, her hands faltering for a second.  _ He doesn’t mean that, he doesn’t mean what he’s saying - he’s  _ **_very_ ** _ drunk, and isn’t thinking clearly, that’s  _ **_all_ ** _.  _ And so, Jester resumes her unlacing, not responding to his comment, trying deeply to bury within her just what the  _ thought _ of him being serious  _ does _ to her. 

With Jester’s help, the two of them eventually reach all of the laces, save for the ones on and around the codpiece - Jester’s hands instinctively reach for them, driven on task, before she stops, hesitating. Essek sees her pause, and the unsure look in her eyes, before she reaches his gaze once more cocking her head slightly, blushing deeply, trying her best to ask permission with having to  _ actually _ go through the embarrassing task of  _ asking _ for permission. He sees this, and brushes her hands away, relishing the brief contact to her  _ very _ cool-to-the-touch skin, and reaches for the laces himself, trying to muster the last shred of composed sobriety left within him to undo the complex series of laces encasing his lower half. 

Jester is not a prude, nor is she shy of sexuality and nudity - but she finds herself unable to really  _ look _ at Essek undressing, finding herself suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer thought of his nudity, both  _ wanting _ and a little  _ frightened _ at the same time, scared of her own sheer  **_want_ ** and force of  _ longing _ behind the notion entirely - so she averts her gaze, fiddling nervously with the sheets in front of her for a moment, before gathering her nerve, and reaching for the laces of his doublet, and beginning to undo them in tandem with Essek’s own admittedly sloppy efforts. 

“It’s funny, you know, men  _ always _ complain about women’s corsets and all their fussy lacings - when they’re  _ even _ worse themselves, Essek - or at least here in Roshonna. I’ve never seen so many laces in my  _ life _ Essek - how do you do this  _ everyday  _ though?” Jester sighs teasingly, working her way through the numerous individual eyelets. 

Essek giggles lightly, finally wrenching his cock free from the laces holding the codpiece together, and awkwardly attempting to shimmy his way free from the woolen prison encasing his legs while still staying in a relatively static place to still allow Jester’s hands to work open his doublet - being mindful to at least make his best  _ attempt _ to not just outright flash her by accident -  _ A very difficult dance indeed _ . “Yes, it certainly has its downsides, you could say…  _ buuuut _ it does cut such a handsome figure,  _ though… _ ” Forgetting momentarily that he was wearing boots, he sighs, before laughing, taking his head in his hands, both deeply amused and embarrassed that he didn’t even think of this. “One moment, darling -” He forgets himself for a moment, letting the pet name slip out without thought, bending down and fusing with the numerous buckles lining his calves. 

Jester lets out a small giggle herself, watching him struggle with a truly ridiculous amount of buckles. “ _ Essek, really _ \- and people call  _ me _ high maintenance.” 

Finally wrenching one leg free of the truly impressively tall boot, Essek grunts slightly as he’s met with resistance with the leather, unthinkingly and weakly chucking the boot across the floor, prompting Jester to laugh even more. “I’m not ‘ _ high maintenance’ _ dear, I’m  _ fashionable _ \- and it would do you right to remember it.” He quips back at her, reaching for the other boot, finally wrestling free of it as well. 

“ _ Wellllll _ - _ woe be unto me _ for questioning the ways of  _ fashion _ , I suppose.” Jester finishes her work on his doublet helping getting him out of it, until he’s clad in only his shirt, briefs, earrings, and a full face of flawless makeup - it’s a sight to be seen, honestly, and Essek  _ knows _ it, carries himself like he knows it, and finds strength in her blushing in response. 

Jester reaches for his earrings, her hands brushing against the back of his neck inadvertently, sending a shiver down Essek’s spine in the best way possible, as he just simply lets himself be cared for, be stripped by her, and treated with the upmost softness and respect - and he’s struck by just how serene the moment is, how pleasingly quiet it is, orchestrated only by the wild beating of their hearts and their uneven and delightfully off-kilter nervous intake of breaths - it’s a moment he never deigned himself worthy of having, the simple, sheer, unadulterated  _ domesticity  _ of it - and, selfishly, he  _ wants _ it, wants  _ this _ , wants  _ more _ of  **_this_ ** , the simple joy of being in her presence, and he finds himself  _ aching _ , slowly becoming mere putty in her  _ safe _ hands. 

Jester gathers the rest of his clothes, depositing his jewelry in the small dish on the desk where she keeps her own, and begins hanging things up for him, before stopping briefly, and sighing, making her way to the door. “Your makeup - wait here, I’ll get you a washbowl and some linens.” 

“Oh, it’s no matter -” Essek casts Prestidigitation, clearing his face of any trace of makeup. 

Jester’s eyes widen slightly, before her face lights up at the magical display. “It’s still cool, it’s always cool when you do it - you have to teach me that one.”

“Give me an afternoon of your time, and it’s done.” 

Jester smiles sweetly, finishing hanging up Essek’s clothes. “ _ We’ll see. _ ” Jester turns around to face Essek for a moment, before nervously turning her back behind him and rummaging for her nightgown. She almost asks him to look away, feeling a strange instinct of modesty come over her, but she thinks the better of it -  _ I  _ **_want_ ** _ him to look, though - I want him to see me, I  _ **_want_ ** _ him to gaze at me with those damn hungry eyes - besides, he totally undressed in front of you! And you even helped him do it - no, it’s better if he sees, then we’re even - yes, yes,  _ **_look_ ** _ at me, Essek!  _

Jester finds her prettiest nightgown, the one with all of the delicate, sheer lace inserts, and beautiful contrasting pink satin ribbons and bows along the neckline, and nervously begins to undress herself. She can’t look him in the eyes, instead turning her back to him mostly, only offering him a side-view of her curvy frame - she can feel her cheeks nearly  _ burn _ as she undoes the laces of her boots, peeling them off in a much more graceful manner than Essek ended up shirking his own, and as she undoes the buttons her dress, leaving her in only Caleb’s shirt, her corset, her frilly knickers, and her striped pink thigh highs. 

Essek almost feels like he’s about to  _ combust _ on the spot -  _ What a sight to behold… Luxon  _ **_help_ ** _ me, its almost  _ **_painful_ ** _ how beautiful she is - Gods, what I would  _ **_give_ ** _ to be the one undressing her right now…  _ He knows he’s staring, and knows it’s impolite, and knows that this isn’t  _ for  _ **_him_ ** , and so he averts his gaze. 

Jester notices his gaze trained on his lap, and for a moment, she longs to just take his face in her hands and  _ force _ him to look at her as she undresses, but she thinks the better of it, instead averting her own eyes, and going to the slotted notches in the split busk of her corset, wrenching the notches open with brute strength, freeing herself of the constraints, letting out a pleased sigh as she does, allowing the sweet feeling of release to flow through her. Layer by layer, she slowly strips - once she’s fully nude, she can’t help but shoot Essek a wayward glance, longing to see her gaze openly at her - but his head is turned, eyes facing the wall - and she can’t help but feel the slightest tinge sadness that he doesn’t want to see her like this. She quickly dons her nightgown, and heads towards her bed, and pulls the comforter over herself. “Goodnight, Essek. Sweet dreams.” 

Essek watches as she turns over, and he feels a strong sense of  _ desire _ wash over him -  _ No no no - I can’t just be here, sleep in her bedroom, and not sleep next to her - no, I can’t. I won’t. I won’t have it. I need her - I  _ **_need_ ** _ her!  _ Essek pouts slightly, throwing his arms up in a huff, frustrated at the situation, and at not knowing at  _ all _ how to accomplish his goals.

“ _ Jeeeeeester -”  _ Essek slurs out, “your bed looks so much more comfortable than Beau’s - I want it. Let me sleep there.” He inelegantly asks. 

Jester  _ pauses _ , unsure how to best respond to what he just said -  _ Is Essek asking to sleep with me??!?! Not like,  _ **_sleep sleep_ ** _ with me, but - in the same bed??!? Is he really asking that right now??!? Fuck, but imagine it for a moment - being  _ **_held_ ** _ , cradled in his arms, lying against his chest, feeling his heart beat with yours, feeling his chest rise with every breath, and his  _ **_arms_ ** _ around you -  _ **_no_ ** _. No, he can’t mean that, he can’t want to actually - he’s  _ **_very_ ** _ drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s asking, he’s being reckless and stupid, he doesn’t actually  _ **_want_ ** _ that, Jester, it’s the wine talking - it’s just the wine talking. That’s all.  _ **_That’s all_ ** _.  _

“ _ Essek…”  _ Jester sighs softly, a  _ wanting _ deep within her that she can barely restrain, barely cover up, for her sake and his, just edging over in her tone, before she moves to sit up in her bed, turning to look back at the handsome drow. “We can switch beds if it will really make you happy, and make you  _ go to sleep _ .” 

“That’s not - no, nonononono, I don’t mean it like - I want -  _ I want… _ ” Essek pauses, a sudden pang of bittersweet longing washing over him, as he becomes very quiet for a moment, growing contemplative in his own wants and desires. “I  _ want _ \- you know, Jester - that day my Den gave you the ‘ _ Xhorhau _ s’ - when you gave me that hug - that was the first time I had been hugged in over a decade.” He says quietly. 

“Oh,  _ Essek…”  _ Jester’s heart breaks at the thought, unable to imagine a life without  _ hugs _ , without basic  _ touch _ , much less for over  _ ten years _ . 

“I haven’t - I just - I… that kind of…  _ affection _ … I haven’t allowed myself, or been allowed - it’s not really much of a thing, in my family - I didn’t grow up much with it, so I suppose I never really sought it out, or thought much of the value of it, or - I don’t know.  _ I don’t know.  _ But… your…  _ you…  _ you give it so -  _ freely _ , so  _ openly _ , it’s - it felt so…  _ Luxon help me,  _ I’m  _ really _ not good at expressing this right now, or  _ ever _ , really - but… your touch, it’s so…  **_warm_ ** . When you hugged me, it was so… you’re  _ very _ adorable, do you know that?” Essek babbles on, his verbal capabilities severely compromised at the moment, simply spouting off the most immediate thought in his head. “You know it, I know you do. But your touch… Jester, I’ve never - I didn’t know a hug could  _ feel _ like that, so  _ warm _ , so  _ safe _ \- and I… I am a selfish creature, Jester - I want what I know I don’t deserve, what I know I’m not worthy of - but I want still, I want and I want and I want - and I want that warmth, Jester - I want that safety - I  _ need _ it,  _ please _ \- even if it’s just for tonight, and we never speak of this again,  _ please _ , Jester,  _ please _ \- I just want to feel warm and safe tonight. Let me hold  _ you _ for a change.” Essek finds tears welling in the corners of his eyes, out of his own control, gathering without his own knowledge, threatening to spill at a moment’s notice. 

“... Come here, Essek. Come here.” Jester motions towards her own bed, a soft, sad smile on her face, one of recognition, knowing, and acknowledgement. 

Essek falters for a moment, genuinely a little stunned that she’s actually agreeing to this, and not having thought much farther than this point, he finds his limbs all wobbly and unsure, walking like a newborn colt over to Jester’s bed, before almost flopping onto it, his own dexterity and sense of spatial awareness  _ deeply _ questionable in his current state. Jester laughs at the sight of him, before parting the downy comforter to accommodate him. 

Essek worms his way under the comforter, very ungracefully, before he lies down next to her, her lavender gaze so  _ close  _ to him, so close it’s almost unbearable, and he feels so genuinely paralyzed into inaction under the weight of them.  _ Fuck, how do I want to do this? What does she want me to do? Should I ask to spoon her? Would she ever go for that?  _ “Uh…” Essek mutters, staling for the words to actually reach his tongue. “Would you like… I mean, can I…” Essek awkwardly raises his hands slightly, motioning towards her waist, before halting in their sted. “Can I… may I…” He clears his throat, and does his best to gather up nerve and confidence to actually ask her properly. “Um, may I, Jester - may I hold you? Would you like that?” 

Jester smiles. “You know, you’re very cute when you’re flustered, Essek.” Jester playfully boops him on the nose, and he blushes a dark, rich purple. “Yes, you may, Essek.” 

Essek slowly wraps his arms around her, drawing her into him, letting his hands find purchase on the small of her back, and on her soft, ample, and plush hips.  _ She smells of lavender _ … Essek lowers his head slightly, the top of her head only reaching his chin due to their rather apparent height difference. He smiles, genuinely smiles - while her skin feels cold on the outset, she quickly warms up to his body temperature, and he can’t help the heady bliss the sheer comfort of holding her in his arms gives him, and the delightful drowsiness it brings him. “ _ Oh, Jester… _ your kindness knows no bounds.” He wearily comments, before the lull of his trance overtakes his consciousness. 

Jester rests her hands against his chest, a deep blush coloring her cheeks, unsure if she should allow her to  _ actually  _ react to the explosion of butterflies she feels deep within her, if she should  _ allow _ herself to give into his touch like she  _ wants _ to -  _ It’s a bad idea - this will only ever lead to heartbreak _ . Jester thinks back to the heartache she silently suffered through after Fjord had given her his breath, touching his lips to hers, and then backing off completely, and growing so distant as she  _ pined  _ and  _ pined _ for months on end, only to realize it was a fruitless venture - it  _ hurt,  _ and at times it was all she could to not cry at night - and it’s her  _ worst _ , her  _ worst _ fear - that it’ll all happen again. Essek will be flirtatious and affectionate a bottle of wine later, but cold and impersonal the minute he sobers up, and she’ll be in the same exact position she was in before.  _ I never learn, do I?  _

In his semi-lucid state, one of Essek’s hands begins to cradle the base of her skull, pulling her in further, his fingers idly dancing through her hair - it’s a little jarring, as his breathing has slowed to the rate at which people usually sleep at, and his eyes are closed, yet his hands still move regardless, one hand’s thumb rubbing slow circles around her hips, with the other scritching the base of her horns, almost as if she was a cat. The stimulation on the base of her horns makes her let out an involuntary  _ mewl _ , followed by a deeply satisfied hum, a low vibration rumbling within her chest, surprising even herself in just quite the reaction such a simple motion was able to elicit from her. Essek smiles, almost dumbly, and lets out a small sigh himself. 

Jester cranes her head to look up at his face, before Essek’s hand cradling her skull moves to tilt it back down, and cup her closer to his chest, strengthening his hold on her. He buries his face in her hair, breathing deep and slow, not willing to relinquish her from his grasp. Jester’s face is now smushed against the neck opening to his linen shirt, her nose meeting the _ extremely _ and  _ oddly _ soft grayish-purple skin of his chest. She doesn’t know what to do -  _ It’s all I could have ever wanted, it so  _ **_wonderful_ ** _ and it feels so  _ **_good_ ** _ \- but what happens in the morning? What happens once he sobers up? What happens once he doesn’t actually  _ **_mean_ ** _ it - am I ready for that kind of pain?  _ **_Can_ ** _ I even handle that kind of pain again? _

… 

_ But… he’s here now… this is happening  _ **_now_ ** _ \- am I going to ruin the moment by thinking of future hypotheticals?  _

_ What if this is all I’ll ever get? What if this is the absolute most I’ll ever receive from him _ ?  _ Shouldn’t I…  _ **_savor_ ** _ that? Savor this? Live in the moment - not obsessing over a future that may never ever come to be?  _

_ Shouldn’t I allow myself just a little happiness?  _

_ …  _

_ Fuck it _ . 

Jester nuzzles her face into Essek’s chest, and moves to tangle her legs with his own, her tail wrapping itself around his thigh, and, slowly, is lulled into a pleasant dreamstate. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The wonderful thing about trancing is that you still regain some of your sense of waking awareness - you’re not fully unconscious, yet not quite conscious either - just a wonderful, languid, lucid inbetween state. All night, Essek’s hand continues to pet Jester, idly strumming her body as she falls asleep. Even in his semi-conscious state, he can still hear all of Jester’s lovely little sighs, the delightful  _ purring _ she makes when her scritches her horns, and the way her breathing slowly begins to lull, meeting and matching his own. It’s the best trance he’s had in  _ decades _ . When he finally awakens, much earlier than Jester, given the fact that he only really need about four hours to be fully rested, he’s greeted by a pounding headache, which is less than ideal - but also to a lovely sprawled out Tiefling lying against his chest, her right thigh hoisted up to hook around his hips, and the idly swaying spade-like tip of her tail tapping against his ankles. She looks so…  _ peaceful _ , so  _ happy _ , clutching onto the fabric of his shirt, nuzzling her nose deep within his chest - he could stay here for hours, he know he could - simply content with having her near, having her close to him, wrapped around him like this - it would be easy, oh so  _ easy _ to just allow himself to stay - he images, in a better life, where he’s a better man more worthy of her, having this achingly gorgeous, soft, domestic sight greeting him every morning - it’s a fantasy, he knows it, a fantasy that dangerous to even imagine in the first place - because he’s not a good man, and he’s not deserving of her in  _ any _ way - yet he wants all the same, not listening to reason, unwavering in the face of reality. 

_ But I can’t live in a fantasy, can I?  _

… 

_ Maybe for just a moment more. _ Essek lingers, drumming his fingers against her skin, rubbing that one spot at the base of her horns that she seems to love so much, and does his best to memorize this - memorize what it feels like to touch his skin to hers, the lovely weight of her head resting on his chest, the delightfully clingy way her tail feels wrapped around his thigh, and the delicious feeling of her hips against his own - and he stays there for a long moment, and then a moment more, until another half an hour passes between the two of them, watching her dream, and feeling especially and oddly  _ grateful _ to simply be here at all, that she’s allowed him to hold her like this - and he lets himself dream, idle, soft dreams of this happening every night, and waking every morning to this glorious sight. 

But he must leave. And it kills him to admit that. So, slowly, taking special care towards de-tangling their limbs (especially the tail currently grappling his thigh), Essek slowly crawls out of Jester’s bed, his heart breaking at the sleepy whines of protest Jester makes as he leaves. 

Slowly, and silently, he begins the laborious process of putting on his clothes from last night. Once dressed, he tries to search for all of his jewelry, before finding all of it being stored next to Jester’s - its such a small detail, such a small intimacy, but his jewelry looks so commonplace and casual next to Jester’s, as if they were meant to be there, like they were her’s already - and he feels this pang of longing, this  _ want _ \-  _ I want them to  _ **_belong_ ** _ here - I want them to belong with her. _ The realization shocks him, and he feels a subsequent moment of mild panic at the thought -  _ You can’t want that…  _ **_domesticity_ ** _ \- you can’t, you don’t deserve that, not with all you’ve done - you can’t ever provide that to her - she’s an adventurer, she is not bound to this place as you are - she’ll leave, without warning, without a chance of return - you can’t expect domesticity from that. You can’t ask that of her, it’s unfair to her - and it’s not like she would even  _ **_want_ ** _ that of  _ **_you_ ** _. You’ve been pushing your luck fair enough these days.  _

__ So, he picks his jewelry and ornamental armor off from Jester’s vanity, memorizing how they looked amongst her collection, and finishes getting dressed. Before leaving, he quickly pulls a piece of scrap parchment, a quill and inkpot from his bag of holding, and writes a brief note, before quietly assuming his floating form, and deftly closing the door. 

He floats his way down the stairs of the Xhorhaus, and makes his way towards the main entrance, opening the door, setting off the light tinkling of the door chimes. He hears a rustle of sound from inside the home, before a very beleaguered and sleep-deprived Caleb Widogast stumbles into the main foyer, looking for the source of the chimes. 

Essek has half a mind to simply cast Invisibility on himself and outright  _ leave _ , avoiding any further conversation between the two, before he thinks the better of it, not wanting to cause confusion and panic over the worry of an intruder. He smiles tensely towards his fellow wizard. “Ah, Mr. Widogast - I pardon if I woke you up, I was just taking my leave.” 

“It’s 2:30 in the morning.” Caleb observes, questioning him slightly. 

“That’s the beauty of Drow - we simply require less rest than others.” 

“Beauty, hm?” Caleb comments, his weary eyes trying their best to assess Essek’s demeanor in the moment, but finding himself so exhausted and sleep deprived that all he ends up accomplishing is simply staring at Essek for a moment too long. “That must be rather convenient.” He murmurs, almost under his breath. “I trust you slept well, then?” 

“Yes, quite - Jester’s bed is quite comfortable.” He can’t help but throw the barb in, feeling the momentary hit of satisfaction at being smug and holding it over Caleb - but it quickly fades when Caleb’s face falls, his hands tensing and flexing, attempting to not ball them into fists, a silent anger welling its way into Caleb’s tumultuously stormy eyes - and the feeling sours, being replaced with an extremely sudden moment of  _ mortification _ as he realizes that he’s  _ really _ pissed Caleb off - and, more importantly - he finds himself mortified that he’s  _ made _ Caleb upset - that he’s the reason for that crestfallen, resentful glare - and, upon the realization of this, a  _ new _ wave of mortification hits him -  _ mortification _ that he’s even  _ mortified _ in the  _ first _ place. 

Caleb clears his throat, biting his tongue, and carefully choosing his next words, as to not fully betray his true feelings on the thought of Essek sharing Jester’s bed. “I’m glad you rested well. I will not keep you longer than you need be. Good day, Shadowhand.” 

“Good day, Caleb.” Essek turns to leave the house before turning around briefly to look at Caleb one more time, this  _ strange _ man who occupies too much space in his head, these days -  _ frustratingly _ present, taking up so much of his mental energy to always have to  _ beat,  _ have to  _ outshine _ \- and he almost says something to him, the bubbling of an apology on his lips - but he stops himself, turning back around, and heading towards his tower. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

When Jester wakes, she’s struck by the emptiness in her bed, her arms reaching for nothingness. Groggily, frustratingly, she rubs her eyes, and sits up out of bed, only to realize that Essek is nowhere to be seen, all of his belongings as absent as the man himself. One thing she does notice in his absence, however, is a spare piece of parchment with elegant scrawl across it. She gets out of bed, and heads towards the note, reading it. 

_ Jester,  _

__ _ Thank you for helping me last night. I regret letting myself get that intoxicated in the first place, and I would like to apologize if I made you uncomfortable in any way. That was never my intent, though if that was the end result, then I apologize full heartedly.  _

__ _ But, I did enjoy our time together last night. I meant everything I said - your kindness truly does know no bounds, and it is a special gift that I cherish, and do not take lightly. Words don’t even begin to describe how much your presence in my life has helped me, challenged me, and made me a better person as a result. Thank you, Jester Lavorre - for all you have done, and all you will continue to do. _

__ _ Last night at dinner you mentioned bringing me along on a trip to Nicodranas to see your mother - it would be my greatest honor and privilege to join you on this excursion. I do however ask that you give me at least a two weeks warning beforehand, as I will need to put in for time off - work never ends, it would seem. But, I shall make it end - for you.  _

__ _ Yours Affectionately,  _

__ _ Lord Essek Theyless of Den Theyless, Shadowhand to the Bright Queen  _

__ Jester holds the letter in her hands for a moment, marveling over it’s contents.  _ He… cherishes my kindness?  _ Jester can’t help but swoon a little, letting out a small, simpering sigh. 

Unable to wait, Jester casts Sending.  _ “Hi Essekkkkk - no need to apologize - you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all. Quite the opposite actually… soooooooo put in for your leave ASAP!”  _

Essek, who’s currently in the middle of a rather intense national security brief, smiles at the welcome intrusion in his mind, and quietly responds under his breath. “ _ Will do, Jester - I’m looking forward to it.”  _


End file.
